Immisible
by Jin Rei
Summary: .: SkinnerEtGray :. Love is not finding the perfect person. It's seeing the imperfect person perfectly. R&R DAMNIT!
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER:** We don't own any characters... except for Ferdinand Pierre a.k.a. The Artist, who is copyright to Jin. ;D

**-Immisible-**

**Skinner for Gray**

**Co-Written by Jin Satoshi, and Rei Nokato.**

That house by the docks was empty. As usual. Not a soul crept, not a shadow stirred, even the wind froze. Well, that's what most would think. He _was _somehow like a shadow, moving swiftly, silently, unseen. Unseen, of course, thanks to that incredible serum that had changed his life completely. The door swung, moved by the thief, though as soon as he was inside, a jacket was slung over his shoulders, holding off the breeze. The house was old, incredibly still standing. And there _had _to be treasures hidden in there somewhere. Heck, he deserved some extra cash, after that last quite draining expedition with that stupid Indian. Though, he _did _respect Nemo for putting up with Harker. Spicy lass, but a little annoying at times. The cloaked man walked silently through the house, jabbing at things, picking up knick-knacks on his way. Totally unaware, of what was going on at a painting, hanging beautifully on the wall. A handsome face stared down from it, half-smiling, almost patronizing. Dark hair hung over contrastingly pallid skin, unblemished, smooth.

Though, this didn't last for long. The picture began to crumble, cracks appearing on it, the painted face distorting, growing almost inhumanly terrifying.

The clip clipping of polished boots stepping against the cold cobblestone (**Look! Alliteration! Hahahai'msofunny**) rang out against the silent night, a figure drifting patiently through the British fog. His top hat was slightly lopsided, and in his hand was something that looked like a cane, though it was obvious he didn't need help walking. That same, patronizing smile was plastered on thin lips, steely grey-blue eyes staring unblinking at the house before him. The man pushed the cane against the door, it drifting open slowly. He arched a brow. Never had he leant a _key _of all things to someone, or even kept one under the welcome mat. Okay, so there wasn't a welcome mat. But that was better than a flowerpot. Psh, yeah right. Anyway, the tall man, clad in an expensive looking grey suit, stepped into his once home, staring about. Things had been touched. Things had been taken. He fought down a snarl growing on his lips. He moved forward, passing the painting, but daring not to look. Pangs of pain rushed from a strange scar on his chest, where his own sword had impaled him, as he passed the hanging spot of his portrait. He flinched a little, but kept walking, following the mere _scent _of thievery.

Oh, it wasn't hard to find the intruder. He was rummaging about in his library, drinking a glass of sherry, and mumbling obscenities about a book of Karma Sutra. The man in grey cleared his throat, standing, patiently at the broad doors.

Rodney Skinner, as was his name, blinked a little behind his glasses, and turned. Shock hit him first, then anger, then shock again, which caused him to drop the sherry, which then brought on a bout of idiocy.

"You made me drop my sherry." Skinner stared, half-flabbergasted, half-angry at the loss of his alcohol.

The man in grey chuckled, removing his top hat and placing it neatly on a chair as he moved forward. Skinner watched him warily. How could this be real? The traitor was dead. Mina had told him. She had told everyone. Did she lie? But... why would she lie? What was...? Skinner shook his head, the thoughts beginning to confuse him.

The man looked back to him, both brows arching, as if waiting for an apology. Poor Skinner, thinking he had died. Poor League, thinking they could get rid of him that easily.

For, Dorian Gray was, of course, an Immortal.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One (Written by Rei Nokato)**

"Hmm..." Dorian gazed at the book floating in mid-air nearby. "What's that book you were so eagerly reading?"

Noticing the book was visible, unlike himself, Rodney closed it and put it on the table next to him. "Quite an interesting book, actually..." He fixed his eyes on it. "I didn't know half of them... and I only had time to read ten techniques -"

"Alright! Alright! I understand, Mr. Skinner." Dorian said quickly, really hesitant on discussing _those_ techniques with _him._

"Oh, please!" Skinner murmured. "As if I'd start chatting about them with -" The creatively annoying gentleman had a sudden idea, as he glanced at Dorian's nervous face.

He picked up the book with false enthusiasm, just to scare poor Dorian. **-**

"There's just one thing I don't understand, Dorian." Skinner pretended to examine the page carefully. "I don't understand how you express technique six... Could you perhaps... demonstrate it for me?"

Trying his best not to laugh, Skinner waited for Dorian's reaction.

About ten seconds passed. Dorian's face was still blank.

Slowly, the mischievous smile on Skinner's face faded away.

_What's his problem? Can't he take a joke?_

Another five seconds died. Rodney's smile had died too. His joke was SO gone. Geez, how could anyone ruin one of Skinner's gags?? 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Dorian started speaking first, in a voice of forced calm.

"Well, er, Mr. Skinner, I _really_ thought you would respect my thoughts, that is... if you _know_..."

Silence. Long (but not awkward) silence.

"What the hell?" Skinner stood uncomfortably still, trying to interpret what Dorian had just said.

The sickening realization came to him. Rodney was slightly homophobic; he admitted silently that this was probably the scariest thing that had ever happened to him.

"Er... You know what, Dorian? Just ah, forget the demonstration." He drank the rest of the sherry out of the bottle; he wanted to get out of Dorian's mansion as fast as possible.

Dorian stared at his cane, seemingly jumpy and fidgety.

Rodney Skinner threw the empty bottle out of an open window. The sound of glass shattering always satisfied him somehow. Flipping the back of his neckline up, he straightened his hat and strode out of the library.

Now that Dorian couldn't see him, he could run for his life. The little ornaments he had stolen out of the library clinked in his pockets loudly as he hurried down the flight of stairs.

"Mr. Skinner..."

Rodney looked up as he was addressed by Dorian, who was at the top of the staircase. He was holding that book that Skinner _really _wanted to read the rest of...

He stopped abruptly. "Yes?"

"Would you like to take this?" Gray held up the book. "I have read it a dozen times, so I don't mind if you borrow it for awhile."

No thanks. I choose life, thought Rodney.

"Ah, forget it." He continued walking down the stairs.

**Feeling a bit suss now... Stretch... Shake it all out...**

When he reached Dorian's painting, he frowned as he stopped to stare at it.

Mina had told them she had shown Dorian the painting and the spell of his immortality had been broken. She said he had died right before her eyes.

He walked quietly all the way back to the League's hideout. It was about an hour away from Dorian's mansion; Rodney didn't mind though.

It was an awfully quiet night... Or maybe it was just because his ears were still ringing from Dorian's words... 'That is... if you _know..._' But there was also the case that maybe he hadn't meant that... It may have just been Skinner's strange mind twisting the words into something dirty and undesirable.

When the Invisible Man arrived at the League's hideout, he emptied his pockets of the stolen items and put them in a drawer.

To try and make himself calm again so he could forget about Dorian, he took his coat and hat off **(just forget what you were thinking you pervert-minded people...please) **and looked for the rest of them.

He noticed it was two in the morning, so he imagined they were all in bed. _Damn._

He continued looking for them anyway, in case someone had wandered off.

When he was bored, he'd walk around invisible **(you could rephrase that as naked) **and sneak up on someone. It always scared them. They always jumped, sometimes giving a quiet 'eep' which really amused him.

The last place to look was the basement. He moved stealthily down the wet staircase. If someone was down here, he would forget about Dorian for sure...

He froze as he heard something echoing. It was the sound he had heard every night for a small time that haunted him; it was the sound of someone weeping their heart out.

So this is where it was coming from...

Now he could finally discover whom it was that sobbed every night.

He slowly and soundlessly opened the old rotted door.

It was dark, but he could just see a shape in the darkness. A shape, which he loved to annoy _every day_... Mina.

With his same routine, he snuck up behind her. But... something made him stop. It was a strange stirring in his heart, which he hardly ever felt...

**Sympathy?!! OMG!!!**

Surprised, mainly at himself, Rodney solidified and watched Mina cry, his face softening from his pert smile.

If he was going to comfort her, he had to get some clothes on. Consciously, he had the feeling Mina would not feel very comfortable with him consoling her whilst naked.

When he came back to the basement, with at least his jacket and hat, he opened the door again.

She was gone.

**If it weren't Skinner I would have yelled out: "OOOOOOO DENIED!!!!!!" just now...**


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two (Written by Jin Satoshi)**

The door slammed shut as Rodney Skinner removed himself from the House, and Dorian felt a sly smirk drawing itself across his thin lips. The Invisible Man wouldn't be back to the House in a while, Dorian was sure of that. He glanced down with an arched brow at the book, wandering who in God's name would have put such a disgusting, yet intriguing thing in his library. It obviously had been there since he'd bought the place- strange, he'd read all the books in his library, and yet had never found this one. Wait, why was he getting so interested over a _Karma Sutra _book of all things?

**Oh, you know why.**

Dorian scoffed slightly, and put the book to rest on a small table as he passed it, walking back down the stairs to come to his painting. Maybe he would send the book to Skinner later, he didn't need it, he had talent without reading a book. But standing in front of his portrait, pangs of pain shivering up his spine, he couldn't help but seem amused that Mr. Skinner had actually wanted him to _demonstrate. _Poor Dorian wasn't aware that it had only been a joke.

Lifting his cane once more into his hands, Dorian stretched a little to unhook his precious picture, and as soon as it was in reach, he grit his teeth, and pulled it into his chest to keep it safe. He stood there for a while, panting with the effort of being near the one thing that could cause his downfall. After minutes passed, he slowly took in deep breaths, and edged tentatively down the stairs.

A day later, he wrapped the Karma Sutra book, signed it as 'Anonymous', and sent it off to Mr. Skinner, but not before he checked to make sure his painting was safe and sound beneath a trap door, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string.

**These are a few of my favourite things!**

**Marth: You are NOT putting that there. How embarrassing.**

**Sirius: I agree. Shoot her. –twitch-**

**Qurin: o o I think it's actually quite sma- -shot-**

Sitting with his feet propped up by the fire, a small pair of glasses resting on his nose, Dorian Gray read silently. It was night outside, and unfortunately, Gray continued to read the same line over and over again. It was strange how he had settled back into his normal life so easily, but something was different inside. No, it wasn't the fact that the Vampire had left a mark, or it was painful to view his painting, it was something deeper than all that. Dorian sighed, and removed his glasses, resting his head back into the plush red chair. Getting off the subject of feeling different, Dorian pondered on why he hadn't gotten a response from Mr. Skinner yet. It had been almost a week now, and with a smirk, Dorian was sure the Invisible Thief would have run off to his teammates whimpering about how Dorian was a perverted Englishman. Then _they _would be totally shocked that Dorian was back, except for the Vampire- she already knew. Gray felt his smirk growing, and he tapped lightly at his chin, staring into the flames. Poor Mina. Yeah, right.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Mister Dorian Gray, his book had fallen into the hands of the worst kind. The hands were young, and yet pure- pure sin. The mind was naïve, the thoughts unperverted. The form of the most malevolent evil, was, of course, American.

Agent Tom Sawyer arched both brows, picking up the small package on the doorstep, and carrying it inside. A package for Skinner? It was probably something stolen. Tom looked thoughtful for a moment, before he carried the present to his room, throwing it on his bed for later investigation.

Days later, and still, _still _Dorian had found no evidence that the remaining League members knew he had ... 'returned'. The Immortal sighed, standing at his window and staring out at the little, foggy dock, slender brow lofted imperiously. He pursed his lips after a moment, tapping his cane against the floor, and he finally decided. It was awful boring to hang around his 'pad' all day, he should be setting his plan to action. With or without the help of Mister Skinner.

"Skinner? Skinner where _are _you?" Mina stole through the hallways of the League's Headquarters, a warehouse somewhere on the east side of London, since Nemo had left on another exploration, and had... 'Forgotten' to invite them. She disregarded the fact that Rodney was probably naked and wandering, but she needed to talk to him. Even if it meant the Invisible Man would cop a grope or something of the like, Mina was just too furious with him. Seeing as she had become sort of a mother hen for Tom Sawyer, it had been a horrifying moment when she had found him staring intently at the pages of a Karma Sutra book. First she had thought it was Nemo's fault for leaving something like that around, but when Sawyer explained that it had been addressed to Skinner from an anonymous sender; Mina's last nerve broke.

"Skinner?! Dammit you perverted IDIOT! Get here NOW!" That had been the first time Mina had actually screamed when the other League members were around, poor Doctor Jekyll and Tom hovering awkwardly behind her, having no idea of what to say. Skinner, however, did not appear, for he wasn't even in the HQ.

Dorian walked silently down the cobblestone street, his top hat tilted with just a bit of attitude, the sexy beast.

**Marth: x x' Was that very relevant?**

His cane was replaced with a black umbrella, and he seemed unaffected by the soft pattering rain above. Though, slowly, a small smirk was drawn across his lips, and he stopped suddenly, tilting his head just to the side so he could look back from the corner of his eye.

"Now Mister Skinner, don't take me for an idiot. I know you're following me." Silence greeted him, for a few long, expanded moments, and he gave a small inkling of a shrug, and continued walking, soon disappearing in the mist. A sigh au revoir-ed the Immortal's exit, seemingly coming out of no where, when suddenly a cane came down, knocking the Invisible' man's shoulder.

"Only a fool makes a sound, Mister Skinner. You're a little rusty, aren't you?" It felt kind of strange that he was talking to mid-air, but that didn't seem to matter. Skinner went to move the cane away, but Dorian simply knocked his shoulder again.

"Hey- ... hey! Easy!" Rodney flinched a little, and turned suddenly. Dorian blinked, and before Skinner could leave, he reached out, managing to grab his arm. Well, he hoped it was his arm.

**Qurin: AHHH! **

**Sirius: It isn't what you're thinking, you perverted idiots. **

"Let go." Skinner demanded, but Dorian did nothing, except smirk in that usual smarmy, cold way.

"No... but I think you should listen to me." He lofted his brow again, pulling Skinner just a little bit closer. "If it isn't too much trouble, you should keep a closer eye on Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde from now on." Dorian chuckled softly, finally releasing Skinner's arm, the man stumbling back a little. Once Rodney regained his composure, he slipped next to Dorian, quickly giving him a good thump over the head, before he disappeared completely. Dorian grunted a little, readjusting his hat, and straightening his back once more. However, poor Skinner couldn't resist his natural instinct, and came back a few seconds later. Dorian wasn't prepared, and unsheathed his sword too belatedly, Skinner grabbing a grope and fleeing again. Gray spun around, blade out, hoping to cut the feeler's throat, but it sliced nothing but air. Dorian sighed just slightly, brows furrowing a little. Now he knew how Mina felt.

------------------------------------------------------

Despite the fact that Mrs. Harker had put Tom in time out and taken the book off him, he had always been able to pull things back. After all, he was American, and almost as sneaky as Rodney Skinner. Now, he lay on his bed again, the little red book above him. Jekyll blinked, peering in.

"Tom? What are you...?" He began, spotted the book, and becoming intrigued, stepped in the room to have a peek as well. Both sat side by side, staring down at the pages, all innocence gone.

"Whoa." "I didn't know that was physically possible." "Whoa." "Incredible." "Whoa."


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three (Written by Rei Nokato)**

Mr. Skinner hadn't slept much the next few days. He was additionally troubled of Dorian's return. He had only tried once, but he had been awoken by the screams of birds outside the HQ.

For those next few days he had felt like drifting off to sleep when he wasn't occupied, but he never let himself become that vulnerable... He had learned throughout all of his time as a thief that letting your guard down is a mistake that cannot be left unseen to. Anything could happen. That's why he had to stay awake and fully alert, waiting inaudibly in the obscurity of the shadows for signs of invasion.

The whole deal with the Karma Sutra book... Well, Skinner had no idea of the anonymous delivery yet, since Tom had taken the package for himself.

On the day that Mina discovered Tom reading it, she stormed everywhere around the HQ calling for the invisible pickpocket.

You could say that all that yelling on her part was a plain _waste_ of time. For Rodney wasn't even present at the warehouse. He _was_, however, roaming the streets of London.

He walked at a swiftness that hinted he was windswept. **sigh** **OK. That just sounds stupid. **He walked at a swiftness that made him look... tempting. **OK let's try that AGAIN. **He strode at a steady swiftness, his jacket catching the wind slightly. .The Thief's imperceptible face was shielded from the rain by the brim of his hat. The infrequent drip slipped down the inside of his jacket, setting him a-shiver.** O o** **What a possessed word.**

He had been walking through the streets of London since the small hours of the morning. The unforeseen homecoming of Dorian Gray had preoccupied him for the last few days. He was working as a protector of the League, looking out for anything suss coming around corners. He was awaiting any news of attacks, taking a peep at the headlines of newspapers as he sauntered by them.

As the rain became consistent, a slim fog hung in the air.

Skinner knew that bandits worked well on rainy days, so he stayed entirely attentive, ready to lash out at shifty forms similar to himself.

The Invisible Man drew back as he distinguished a familiar outline in the mist; the outline of the Immortal.

Rodney retreated sideways to an abandoned passageway. The suspended coat and hat were suddenly whipped off and placed carefully on the ground.

Knowing his clothes would be pinched if he did not hurry, he made his way towards the deceitful ex-league member.

**Intermission. Jin has already told this part of the story, I just thought I'd be a waste-of-timerer and explain what Rodney was doing outside in the first place. In a way that makes sense but... meh. This next part is AFTER Skinner groped Dorian. Yeah... Intermission. :**

The Gentleman Thief made his way back to the passageway where he had left his clothing.

**Utter silence... '.'**

A roar of anger profusely holding a cockney accent echoed through the boulevards of London.

Rodney _gathped._ His fine-looking coat... His beautiful hat... They'd been stolen! **DRAMATIC GATHP **

As he attempted to pull himself together, he heeded the scuff of feet stopping. It had come from the other end of the alley.

Performing his regular routine, he snuck to where the noise had come from without making a sound. He peered around the corner to see a youngster who appeared to be in his teen years. He was taking feeble intakes of breath, clasping his chest with one hand, a nice-looking coat and hat in the other and he was firmly pressed on the wall. He was clearly a thief like Skinner, but he only seemed to be a novice.

The boy breathed a sigh of relief. He gulped and edged towards where Rodney was standing. The _professional_ thief kept his ground as the youth bumped against him.

The boy jumped sideways back to where he once stood, petrified. How could you run into thin air? His grip tightened on Skinner's belongings.

"'Scuse me, pal, but would it be too much to ask for my clothes back?" Rodney's typical smirk came back.

The tyro thief recoiled as a voice rang out of nowhere. "Who-who's there?" The adolescent made an effort to sound gutsy.

"The question is who are _you_? Trying to pilfer a professional thief's outfit?" The Invisible Man asked in reply.

The lad started trembling, looking in every direction for the source of the voice.

"Who... are you?" The boy muttered loud enough for Rodney to hear.

"Never mind who _I _am. Give back my gear." He said patiently, his smile getting broader by the second.

"But... where are you?" The lad's voice broke.

Skinner became suddenly impatient and grabbed his clothing out of the boy's hand. The coat danced in mid-air for a moment, before it rested on the shape of a man. The hat flew upwards and halted above the coat.

The boy slid down the wall, stunned.

The jacket bowed along with the hat. "Thank you! You've been a wonderful audience! And just a tip for you, young man," he tilted forward closer to the lad's face. "Thieves don't return things. Keep that in mind next time!"

Skinner straightened, with a reasonably smug look on his face that no one could see. He tipped his hat and skipped down the lane.

He sashayed back to the headquarters, his sense of self stronger than before.

The front doors unbolted. A suspended jacket and hat entered the foyer. Rodney placed his clothing on a chair in the gathering quarter. He sniffed, a cold finally getting to him after walking around London _in the buff_... Well, nude under his jacket anyway. **--** **Too much information...**

He began searching for someone to annoy when he remembered. The Immortal had made his first threat against the League; against Jekyll. Skinner had already reached the second floor when this came back to him. His self-righteousness had almost cleaned it off his mind.

He reversed his path so he was heading downstairs. Only one thought was running through his head: _"Gotta find the Doc."_

Reaching the bottom of the flight of steps, he discovered Mina. She was locking the front doors, murmuring wrathfully under her breath.

As much as he would love to do a bit of butt-grabbing right now, Rodney stayed focused on locating Jekyll. Yet for the first time that Skinner strayed away from an opportunity, Mina called him back without meaning to.

"Skinner, I really would have expected better from you." She sighed to herself it seemed, with the air of one who is conquered.

The thief stopped in his tracks. "Really?" He came out with instantaneously.

Mina stared at where she had heard the galling voice. Her eyes narrowed. "I _found _you!" She walked quickly towards him.

"Why were you looking for -" Rodney's question was left unfinished. The woman hit him hard across the face.

Slightly infuriated at being slapped for no reason at all, the Invisible Man said "Is that the best you can do?"

One second Mina's face twitched and turned bright red. Next second Rodney was wincing and holding his crotch. "Actually, _that's _the best I can do!" She sneered. "That's what you get for leaving that foul book lying around for Tom to find! He's only a child!"

The thief had no idea of what she was going on about, but he didn't care.

"You know what? I think you're on to me!" Skinner grinned. He was ready for anything this time.

"Oooo, ya think?" Mina aimed another kick, but Skinner was too speedy for her. He jumped to the side, ducked behind her and gave her a good grope.

Mina yelled with frustration and whirled around to whack Skinner over the head. Fortunately, she missed. **Heheheh.**

Rodney left Mina to walk around the room trying to relocate him, her arms out in front of her as if she were blind. If he were to warn Jekyll of Gray's menace, he had to do it now.

In a single motion he grabbed his jacket and tossed it on. He hastily walked through every room of the ground floor. The Doc was nowhere to be found.

As he entered a room on the second floor, the door on the opposite wall burst open. It was Mina again, still aggravated at Skinner.

She darted at the leather coat hanging perfectly still in the air.

"Easy there, Mina!" The sleeves of the coat made a halting gesture. Mina stopped in front of him.

"What?!" She snarled dangerously, as if she couldn't wait to rip him apart. Skinner backed away a little as he thought of this as fact.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Dr. Jekyll is at this point in time, would you?" He asked in a rush.

"As a matter of fact I do, Mr. '_Karma Sutra_'!" Harker shouted.

Rodney blinked. "_Me? Mr. Karma Sutra?_" There was a short silence as he considered it. "Are you _sure_ you're not on to me?"

"Don't be such a dim-wit!" Mina stomped her foot mindlessly. "You _know_ what I'm talking about!"

"_Mr._ _Karma Sutra, Gentleman Thief..._" Skinner acted out. "Pretty satisfying, eh?" Mina shook her head in disgust.

"OK. You know what? I'm just going to leave you alone for now." Harker walked past Rodney quickly. "Oh yes, and about Dr. Jekyll; he left for a walk earlier this afternoon."


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four (**Written by the Oh-So-Lovable Jin Satoshi_Who feels incredibly browbeaten by Rei's dang-guut writing skills. Darn._****

The Doctor, or how Skinner liked to call him 'Quack', walked slowly down the unbelievably busy main street of London. Past the vast Art Gallery, and then the substantially sized Museum that he liked to call home, more current matters distracted his thoughts. Henry Jekyll was beginning to feel incredibly perturbed about being around the Head Quarters, tense feelings threatening to implode the very air they breathed. Some strange silent battle was raging between Mina and Rodney, well; it was silent from what he could see. And Tom, well... Tom wasn't very good company when it came to discussing science or the arts. He was far more interested in his new novel, which Jekyll was beginning to become a little nervous of.

The tall, gangly man stopped a moment, careful not to be caught in the dreary crowd that passed him. Running a hand across auburn hair, he readjusted his hat, peering up at the sky as soft droplets of rain began to fall, not long after forming into intense rain. He pursed his lips, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, and began a quick-paced power-walk towards the nearest alley and shelter.

With a sigh, Jekyll entered the mouth of the alleyway, which was more of a tight lane than anything. The roof above was defeating most of the rainfall, and Henry hurried along, careful not to slip on the now slick cobblestone. As he rounded the corner, however, everything seemed to halt.

An arm glad in a grey sleeve shot out, condemning Jekyll's fate, the palm slamming against the cold wall in front of him. Dorian Gray leaned upon it, smirking darkly from beneath dark ebony locks. Henry felt his breath catch, shock flooding his veins, numbing his body, even Edward, the beast inside his heart, was seemingly afraid.

"Tsk, tsk... what is a weakling like you doing wandering about the back ways?" Dorian spoke with an edge, lips barely moving. He shifted closer to Jekyll, who in return edged back, a soft snarl growing upon his ever-innocent features.

"Gray... You... you traitor... what are you... doing here...?" Dorian's smirk expanded at that, stormy eyes flickering with intense amusement. Jekyll was far more fun to harass than Skinner.

"Visiting old friends." He muttered, moving forward again, though this time, his other arm moved out to block Jekyll's other way, pinning the other man to the wall. Jekyll held his ground, half-surprised himself that Hyde was yet to appear. He pulled back, pressing himself as far as he could against the wall, forcing himself to stand straight and face Dorian like a man.

"How quaint." Gray snapped, and painfully slow, leant forward, nose just brushing against Jekyll's own. The smaller man let out a squeak, though it was cut short, a sudden thunderous rage fighting to be set free from his heart. Gray chuckled, breath warm against Henry's cold skin, and as swift as any dove, his hand swung back, unhooking his already unsheathed cane from his side. Jekyll's head had sagged, shoulders shaking, the anger inside him about to erupt. Dorian sneered, chiding the other man with a soft whisper.

"Tsk, tsk... I suppose my friend Rodney passed on my little message?" Dorian launched a brow, and leant even closer, their cheeks almost touching. Jekyll's shoulders shook, willing for Edward to appear and save him once more. But nothing happened. Gray's ever-youthful features barely even creased with a darkened smirk, his lips brushing tenderly against Henry's skin. Mere seconds later, however, his sword was whipped forward, swiftly embedding in Jekyll's gut. Henry let out a choked gasp, neck jerking back; Hyde was too late. Dorian's smirk faded slowly, and he twisted the blade slightly, watching as tears welled in the corner's of Jekyll's eyes.

And that was when the bullet hit. Dorian's body was snapped to the side, a soft haze fleeing across his silver orbs, and he slowly regained his composure. A deep bullet wound was scarring his shoulder, crimson rivulets slipping from the incredibly large, gaping hole, mingling with the soft rain, and soon joining Jekyll's blood on the ground.

"Get your dirty paws off him, Gray." A thick-accented voice spoke, obviously American. Dorian pursed his lips, his wounded shoulder shaking slightly as the skin bend, moulded, mending itself leisurely. He turned to face the arrogant form of Tom Sawyer, standing, gun still aimed at Dorian's chest. With a swift twitch of his hand, Dorian had yanked his sword from Jekyll's gut; the weakly unconscious man soon slipping to his knees, and then to his site, sprawled in foetus form in his own blood.

"Paws? What kind of language is that, _Agent _Sawyer?" Dorian's gentleman-like voice accented against the word 'Agent', almost in a sneer. Tom thrust his gun backwards, a loud, resounding click echoing across the walls of the alley as the menacing weapon was loaded. Dorian's bullet-wound had healed by then, and he rolled his shoulder, neck cracking as he did so.

"Shut up, Gray, you turncoat. C'mon, bring it. Let's fight." Sawyer lowered his gun slowly, and instead pulled out a long, dirk-like knife, the blade slick and metallic, in great contrast with Dorian's bloodied one.

"If you feel like dying, Sawyer." Gray replied easily, and moved forward, sword flashing to knock the gun from Sawyer's hands. However, the young Spy was fast, and managed to move out of the way, slashing with his own knife at Dorian's neck. The Immortal leant backwards, the knife missing it's mark, and instead kicked out, booted foot easily connecting with Tom's stomach. The boy was sent stumbling backwards, and pulled his gun up immediately, finger jerking against the trigger, the shot ringing out amongst the silence again. A flock of pigeons rose from the rooftops above, crooning, wings flapping in a panic. Dorian quirked a brow, and looked down at the other hole in his chest, seemingly un-amused. He looked up slowly, features staying belittling towards Tom, and he walked forward gradually.

"You can't kill me, Sawyer. You know that." Tom took a hesitant step back, though his hands didn't shake. Jekyll shifted a little, hand pressing against his bleeding stomach, the brave man trying to stand to protect his friend.

"He can't, but I can." Another voice rang out, a black cloak blew, and in mere fleeting seconds, Doctor Mina Harker swept around Dorian, fangs protruding in a vicious smirk. Silver eyes followed her every movement, watching every tilt of her elegant neck, every strand of chocolate that drifted away from the high-held bun.

"Hello, lover." She stopped in her circling, dark tan eyes staring straight into Dorian's soul.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mina." Dorian replied, voice oddly smug, yet still hinting an air of ice. "So, it seems we're all here. Oh, except for a few... The Captain?"

"South Pacific." Mina replied, as if they were having a chat over tea.

"Mr. Quatermain?" Dorian continued, a slight smirk on his lips.

Mina didn't answer this time, she just stared loathingly.

"Oh... and of course, my dear friend... Mr. Skinner?" Dorian chuckled faintly, silver eyes darting to a space down the alleyway, where, Invisible as he was, Skinner stood.

"Never mind." The Immortal inclined a soft shrug, gaze returning to Mina. "He seems to be here, too."

Tom had edged slowly towards the bleeding Jekyll, standing protectively in front of his friend, though the barrel of his gun was still pointed at Dorian, who acted completely oblivious to the American's movements.

Skinner watched silently. He had been there the entire time. He had seen it all. But he wasn't going to do anything. He just... stood there. And stared.

Mina didn't bother to waste her breath on Dorian, and the Vampire swept forward with an elegant grace, the two Immortals beginning an equally matched fight immediately. Wilhelmina knew she couldn't kill Dorian. For that, she needed his painting. That's why she had a different plan in mind. Gray shot his sword forward, but Mina dodged, agile as a cat. He struck forward again, parrying, and moving backwards, the Vampire managing to score a high kick across his face as he let his guard down for less than a second. Dorian grunted a little, and brushed a hand across his cheek, slicing the air viciously with his blade, and drawing a thin line of crimson from Mina's collarbone. He smirked, but then blinked as Mina pulled something from her pocket. Everything moved quickly, Dorian could barely keep up.

"Tom!" Mina had shouted, launching the small objects to the young man. Dorian snapped his head to the side, moving to intercept them, but the spy caught them first. Gray glanced briefly to the American, and then to Mina, sword lashing out again to cut the female's stomach. In those brief seconds of ignoring Tom, however, the boy had loaded whatever Mina had thrown him into his gun, and cocked it, aiming perfectly for Dorian's back. Gray cocked a brow, turning a full spin, still caught in the momentum of his slash at Mina, when Tom fired. Whatever it was thudded into Dorian's chest. He blinked a little, feeling no pain, rather a tingling, numbing sensation.

"You learn a few things when you hang out with an expert hunter." Tom chuckled, voice ridden with smug smarminess. Dorian reached a hand up, delicate fingers touching the hole in his chest. Something was wrong. His legs... numbing. Vision... blurring, silver eyes hazing over. He groaned a little, the world splitting in two, the poison shooting through corrupted veins like a virus.

Skinner stared. What had they done? What had they done to stop an Immortal?

Dorian dropped to his knees, legs unable to hold him any more, and slowly slipped to his chest, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, fusing with the blood-soaked ground.

And then all went dark.

---------------------------------------------------

His vision came first blurry, figures warping and making shapes painfully slowly. A fire flickered before him, and light-headedness threatened to force him back into the dreamland. However, as Dorian Gray awoke, the figures of the League started to unblur, appear in front of him. Mina was sitting silently on a large plush chair, her cold eyes on Dorian. Tom stood by the window, though seemed not at all sad. More triumphant. Jekyll must have survived. Dorian almost snarled with discontent, when his eyes rested upon the new figure leaning against the wall of the fireplace. He was tall, with a dark, curled beard dropping from a well-defined chin. A turban sat atop his head, and Gray narrowed his eyes immediately. Nemo. Everything suddenly jerked back to him in a rush, however. The last thing he remembered was being shot once more by Sawyer.

_Tranquilliser darts. They're mocking me. _Dorian thought with an inward growl, fingers curling about the arms of the chair. There was someone behind him, too, he could sense it, but his attention was soon drawn to a more serious matter. Mina had noticed his small, drowsy movements, and turned her head to face Dorian as he tried to stand from the chair, only to be caught in his tracks. Gray pursed his lips faintly, arms moving not an inch, bound down by a thick rope to the armrests.

"You've turned... a little barbaric... haven't you, Mina?" Dorian hissed through grinding teeth, frustration and anger boiling his blood a little. A chuckle came from behind him, and the soft swirl of expensive sherry in an even more expensive glass.

"Or just kinkier." Skinner.

"Skinner. Shut up." Mina flared her eyes towards the thief, who instantly went silent, smart enough not to mess with the vampire when it seemed like she was going through PMS. She turned to Dorian, fingers curling at the sight of her ex-lover.

"Where is your painting, Dorian? We searched for it, but it seems that you have hidden it extra well." Mina elevated a soft brown brow, Nemo lifting his head to watch Dorian quietly, Tom also turning around from his position at the window, smirking smugly at Dorian. Gray returned the smirk, silver eyes glittering with vehemence. They obviously had not looked in his secret trap door, where only his most beloved belongings were kept.

"Mn... you perceptibly didn't look hard enough, I'm afraid." Dorian replied, an air of arrogance in his tone. Mina pursed scarlet lips, eyes narrowing sharply.

"Tell us, Dorian." She spoke as if she would shove an iron pike in Dorian's eye just to make him talk, but of course, the League didn't do that. Yet.

"After that dart, it seems my memory's been a little dodgy. Sorry, lover." Gray smirked darkly.

Hours passed with Mina, then Tom, followed by Nemo, but not Skinner, all trying to persuade Dorian in different ways to tell them where the portrait was. Tom even offered to shove his gun up Dorian's-

**Marth: **Just... shut up.

Anyway, the League members finally gave up for the night, and Tom and Nemo swept silently from the room, leaving Mina to talk with Skinner in hushed whispers. That was, until Skinner let out a cry of pure horror.

"You've got to be bloody KIDDING! Me? Stay here and guard _him_? Over my twitching dead body, Harker." Skinner snapped, voice lowering slightly as he did so. Dorian tilted his head around a little, still bound to his chair, brow lofting as he watched Mina and Skinner from the corner of his eye. The two argued for a while, until Skinner lost with a spectacular slap across the face, and he turned, sulking back to sit in the chair beside Dorian. Gray smiled to him as he did so, eerily, and in obvious amusement. Rodney grumbled a little, lighting a cigar he had found in Dorian's drawer, gaze flicking every now and then to the immortal in the chair beside him. Such an incredibly awkward silence met the two after that, and both simply stared at the flickering fire, Skinner growing fidgety.

This would be a very, very long night.

And Dorian would make it as hell as possible.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five (Written by Rei Nokato) **

_He'll look away soon... Any minute now... Stupid fruity fancy-pants..._

Inertgrey eyes remained ogling at a face revealed by greasepaint.

_Stop staring at me!_

Dorian's gaze lingered. Rodney's face twitched with a bothered smile.

_There are a million things to stare at in this place! Stare at the fire... or the carpet! Surely the carpet is more interesting than me!_

The League's captive smirked, leaning frontward a bit in his restraints.

"Mr. Skinner?" The Immortal whispered softly, in a tone that indicated something.

The thief jumped a little. **After an hour of silence you would too.**

"Surely you're not frightened to untie me now..." Dorian's voice trailed off.

"Of course not," The thief shifted in his chair uncomfortably, "but for saying that, you deserve the luxury of a punch."

Gray cringed as he readied himself for a knock on the face.

Skinner sniggered. "Oho! What a _pun_!" He walked towards the alcohol cabinet and grabbed a pitcher full of orange liquor. He poured it into the smallest glass he could find and came back to Dorian. "Thirsty?" He brought the glass close to the prisoner's face.

Dorian tilted forward a tad more to reach the goblet. To his astonishment, instead of indulging a fine icy punch, he found it speckled all over his well-groomed appearance.

"Hahaha!!!" Skinner mocked loudly. Dorian's face grew, innocently enough, childlike. Skinner stopped abruptly in his own humour as he became aware of this. "Look, I'm sorry, pal. I just spent an hour with you gazing at me _oh so intently _while I tried to benefit from the silence... You deserved it. Now stare in another direction or I'll find a first class blindfold for you." The Invisible Man returned to his seat.

Dorian shook with a bizarre hilarity.

"Mr. Skinner, do you truly assume these chain links will hold me back all night?" The Immortal leered.

"Bloody right they will." Skinner spoke, his customary pride reappearing.

"Are you sure?" Gray murmured. "I am beginning to recuperate my strength -"

"My good man, would you please refrain from ruining the serenity?" Dorian stayed silent in response. "Thank you."

-------------------------------------------------------

Numerous hours slowed by. Skinner was not allowed to doze in the presence of Dorian Gray, as ordered by his teammates.

The skies were cerulean. Clouds had drifted by over the hours, but now not a single shade was to be seen.

Skinner had never been a natural at bullying. That's why shortly after he had beleaguered Dorian of his smugness he had decided to give him an undersized swig of sherry. On the other hand, Rodney's slyness had come through once more; He had spiked it.

He presumed that was why Gray was sound asleep. However, the drug would make him restless in due time...

For the first time in a week Skinner began to have half-dreams. He would always awaken from them when any sound was made in the real world.

**Welcome... to the real world... I can't believe I just said that... Dammit... Why am I thinking out loud?**

Rodney ultimately slipped into a power-nap. He couldn't prevent himself since he was so fatigued.

-------------------------------------------------------

He awoke quite suddenly just before dawn. In dread, knowing he had probably slumbered for roughly four hours, he sat up quickly and glanced directly at where Dorian was last seated.

Restraints were on the ground. Some looked like they had been snapped by force and several seemed to have been viciously gnawed through. The chair was tipped over on its back.

Skinner shoved his fist in his mouth, stopping an aggressive word from escaping.

He had a slight idea of Dorian's course. The carpet was faintly crumpled near the door, suggesting he had tripped over on exit.

He supposed Dorian was most likely to be running rampant somewhere. The drug must have finally kicked in.

He hurriedly turned the radio on, which sat beside his chair on a quaint stand.

Expecting to hear breaking news concerning the wrongdoings of Dorian Gray, the thief was staggered to perceive a song playing. It was playing so softly that he could only make out a low whirr.

He turned it up so the tune was bouncing off the walls of the library.

"_GAAAAYBARRR!!!! I WANNA TAKE YOU TO A GAYBAR!!!_" The radio screeched. Rodney yelled with fright. He twisted the dial to another frequency.

"_I feel pretty! Oh so pretty!_" He was slightly perturbed by the song, but it made no indication whatsoever of queerness, therefore he left it on. He increased the volume slightly to let the noise flow through him, calming him of his last shock. The song unforgivably continued. "_I feel pretty and witty and GAAAY!_"

The Invisible Man switched the thing off completely. He was shuddering and twitching.

It took him a few minutes to regain his composure. He stood up and checked the shelf where he had previously discovered the book of Karma Sutra. He gawped as he looked across the top of the bookcase. Volume after volume of factual Karma Sutra, crammed into the one section.

"'Ello!" He pulled one out smoothly. The next thing he knew he was bombarded by a landslide of Karma Sutra books.

Before long, all of the sounds of books falling and pages creasing ended. There was a minute silence before Skinner pulled himself out of the pile.

Eyebrows raised, he scraped up one of the books. On the spine it read:

_Vol. XXI_

"Holy..." Rodney dropped it. He picked up another. This time it read:

_Vol. XXXXV_

He was just about to slip the mini-novel into his pocket when he heard what sounded like someone having a head-on collision with a door.

Forgetting the idea of theft, he moved toward the top of the stairway outside the library. He stared down at the entrance hall where he identified Mr. Dorian Gray.

The Immortal was currently shirtless. His locks were in disorder and he seemed to be embracing a chicken. The poor hen was in complete confusion, its wings flapping constantly. Feathers were shooting out everywhere, covering the excellently polished floor in a frenzy of fluff.

Dorian closed the front door and bolted up the stairs, flapping his arms and waving the disorientated chicken in different directions.

Skinner gulped. He paced calmly into the library once again, his mind racing. What if Dorian attempted to... _violate_ him? He could defend himself without a doubt, so the concern was immediately put aside.

He took his seat and tried hard not to choke on his own uneven breath.

Gray dashed into the room towards the window.

"'Ey! 'Ey!" Skinner started. He was suddenly afraid Dorian would jump out of the window with the chicken held over his head, thinking it could fly him over the rooftops of London.

**On the rooftops of London... Gaww... What a sight... Lalalalalalala Chimchimeny-! -bang-**

Skinner approached Dorian without hesitation.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Skinner grabbed Dorian's shoulder and shook him roughly, seeing as he didn't appear to be listening.

Gray bounced as he lobbed the chicken out the window.

"BE FREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! BE FREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!" Dorian shrieked.

Rodney watched as the flustered bird descended into a waste bin. He stared a bit longer, enough to see the garbage roll out onto the road. He snapped back to his senses when Dorian tripped over the floor covering.

Gray clapped whilst jumping up and down manically when he managed to get up.

The racket was brought to a standstill. Dorian gawked at Skinner as he had done before under any influence. An idea came to the dazed man; obvious by the way he clapped his hand over his mouth and gasped.

Rodney seated himself on a chair. He looked urgently outside at the sky. No sign of the sun yet.

Perkily, Gray halted at the centre of the room. There was a small silence before he broke into song.

"_I LOVE YOU BAYYYBAAYY!!! AND IF IT'S QUITE ALRIGHT, I NEED YOU BAYYYBAY -_"

"Oh no."Dorian ran towards the Gentleman Thief with his arms extended in a bear hug. Skinner stood up and stepped to one side.

In an amazing stunt, Gray jumped onto the chair and made a magnificent flip over it. The feat was indeed finished, however, when he hit the floor and the chair fell backwards on top of him.

Rodney thought Dorian had been knocked out, but as he ambled nearer to the chair, he made out a muffled humming.

He stood uneasily, considering what his next action ought to be. He decided in about two seconds. He strolled to the pile of Karma Sutra paperbacks.

As Rodney opened up _Volume XII_, the chair that buried Dorian against the floor sprang back up to its preceding spot. Gray crawled to the heart of the library for the second time and leapt to his feet. Skinner flinched when Dorian out of the blue began singing yet again.

"_You're just too good to be true!! Can't take my eyes off you!!!"_

For a few rather absurd minutes, Gray danced brightly and tried a small number of disastrous cartwheels. He then grabbed his cane and tried waltzing with it. When he attempted the circus approach, flipping his top hat and such, he grew off balance and careened into a wall. He fell and smacked onto the floorboards.

Skinner shrugged after watching Dorian's performance and returned his attention to the book of Karma Sutra.

The tip of the sun's crest shone over the East Docks of London. The League would be here any minute now, Rodney thought joyously.

He slid the book into his jacket and made his way to the door.

"So long, Dorian! Hope you had a nice _trip_! Aha! I crack myself up." Rodney laughed quietly to himself, wondering if anyone would someday be entertained by his lame jokes. **PICK ME!!! PICK ME!!!!!!!!!**

He marched down the staircase. "That's the last time I slip _him_ drugs." He whispered.

The Invisible Man was wrong in thinking the antics were done. For at that very moment, Dorian had just completed preparing his next extravagant act.

Skinner looked up as the ceiling shook. Dorian had tripped over again. The professional thief halted his gaze at the top of the stairwell.

There was a loud scuffing before Dorian appeared looking down at him. The hyper Immortal was no longer wearing his striped pants. He was now simply clothed in grey socks and boxer shorts. Rodney noticed quite suddenly that Gray was wearing his pince-nez. He had taken them off before he had fallen asleep and had forgotten to put them back on.

"OI! TAKE THEM GLASSES OFF!" Skinner roared at the Immortal. Next thing he knew his pince-nez had been thrown down into the entrance hall. He heard the chink of something breaking into pieces.

Rodney was about to holler with rage, but he was cut short by Dorian's unexpected outburst of song.

"_I FEEEEEEEEEEEEEL GOOD!!! Nanananananana!_" Gray skidded and tripped down a few stairs. Rodney merely blinked and continued walking.

Dorian made the effort of standing up. When he was on two feet again, he sat on the stair rail and slid down it at a dangerous speed.

"_I FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!_" Dorian's song was delayed when he tumbled backwards off the rail. He plummeted down the stairwell.

Skinner had just reached the entrance hall when this happened. He glanced upwards to see Dorian falling at a rapid velocity.

The Gentleman Thief swore. He sprinted to the bottom of the stairwell and dived to catch Dorian.

Rodney stopped sliding across the floor. He halted right underneath the Immortal.

An intense pain shot through the Invisible Man's back. He shut his eyes firmly and clenched his teeth and fists. His eyes watered and he let out a suffocated cry of pain.

The light of the morning sun shone on him, somewhat peacefully.

A moment of silence occurred after that. The calmness was shattered, however, when Dorian began bouncing cruelly on his back.

"Hee! Squishy!" The Immortal commented irrelevantly.

Skinner lost it. "GE' OFF ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" With a tremendous effort, he slipped out from beneath Dorian. The influence of drugs making him look quite lost indeed, Dorian stared widely at him with huge shining eyes.

The pain in his back shot through Rodney unceasingly and he collapsed helplessly.

The last thing he recognised was Dorian's sweetly innocent voice. "Oopsie..."

-------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, I hope he didn't hurt you, Skinner..." A whisper echoed through him.

A dim light glowed through his eyelids... Candlelight.

He could feel his jacket and blankets covering him. His neck was supported by a soft pillow. There was a light weight beside where he lay. A hand stroked his back gently.

His memory failed him for a moment as he tried hard to remember what had happened to him... And why did his back feel so heavily bruised?

His eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright.

"GE' AWAY FROM ME!!!!" He flailed his arms to the side where he sensed someone was sitting.

A woman screamed as Skinner's arm connected with something.

He cursed under his breath. He had just whacked Mina Harker over the face. She licked blood off her lip, as if she were threatening him.

"Whoops! Heh! Sorry, love!" Rodney sat up hastily and patted her on the head. "Thought you were Dorian. I mean, you look enough like a man - I mean - I need a do-over!"

Mina gathered all of her strength and gave Skinner a fairly malicious punch.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!" Rodney wailed as Harker laughed very openly at him. "Oh yeah, sure! Just _beat up_ _the defenceless guy_. Yeah! That sounds like a brilliant plan!"

The vampire departed the room silently.

"I could _really_ use that do-over now!" Skinner called after her.

-------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, on top of scraps inside a dumpster situated in an alley, Dorian began to stir from his short morning nap.

He hastily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His eyes flickered for a few moments.

He groaned softly. His throat ached and his voice felt much worn out. His muscles were exhausted. He felt an unpleasant chill as a dreadful draught swept over him.

He slothfully propped himself up on his elbows, grumbling inaudibly as he pulled his head up.

Two beady eyes looked up at him suspecting. It was a cock. **AAAAAHHHH!!!!!! I think I'll change that word.**

_**REI! How dare you cut out that word! YAY for COCK! :D (Jin, obviously)**_

It was a chicken. It ruffled its wings cautiously, as though preparing itself for a hug from Dorian.

The Immortal rested his chin on his chest, bewilderment finally coming to him.

He rested on top of the garbage. "Where am I?" He muttered, closing his eyes to block out the morning sunlight. "What happened?"

Something wet and sodden hit his chest very suddenly. He flinched and looked at the fowl sitting on top of him. It squawked affectionately as a reply.

Dorian sat up with difficulty. He took a wild glance at his surroundings. His confusion made him feel terribly sick, so he lay back down on the trash.

He struggled to keep himself from giving reality the slip, but eventually he became unaware of everything. With that, his senses shut down and he entirely passed out.


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six (**Written by Jin Satoshi**) MREEE**

The room was, easy to say, blindingly white. It bit at Dorian's senses, tantalizing, yet also exhausting. The bright hurt his eyes incredibly, and rekindled his throbbing headache. Vision stayed blurry for a few moments as he blinked open silver orbs, and then slowly, painstakingly slowly began to take form as an incredibly vast space. It was a square room, the walls, floor, and ceiling exactly the same. White. Ivory. Without colour. Boring. Dorian felt his slender brows knit together, and tentatively propped himself up on his shoulders. He was fully dressed, back into his grey suit. _How _was a large question, as he looked himself over, and then around the room again.

"Argh!" His gaze had instantly been drawn to a painting at the far end of the room, and shudders of pain had suddenly burst from his old wound. The Mina wound. Dorian groaned gently, and rolled onto his stomach, trying to be elegant with his movements as he stood. The pain was slowly subsiding to a mere ache, like it usually did, and he edged closer to the painting. It was, no doubt, his own. The rotten, sadistic and morbid, crinkled and cracked face stared back at him, and Dorian couldn't help but hold back an intense look of fascination. As he stared, arms by his side, in the strange, blank room, the total silence was disrupted by a soft squelch, paddle, puddle, pad, and squelch. Dorian seemed to ignore it, though the sound came closer. Squelch, paddle, puddle, pad. Squelch, paddle, puddle, pad. Just as Dorian had had enough of the irritating sound, a small penguin waddled past, just in front of him.

Dorian couldn't help but stare, eyes wide in shock and confusion, as the penguin continued on it's merry little squelch, paddle, puddle, pad way.

"Eh?" Gray was still watching, as the penguin venture to the wall, not stopping, and instead, disappeared right into it. Dorian narrowed his eyes a little, and was about to move towards the wall, when a soft 'whee' sound came from behind him, and yet another penguin slid past on it's belly, disappearing after the other.

"This is... surreal." Dorian murmured, now beside the disappearing wall, his fingers stretching out hesitantly. His heart thudded at what could be on the other side, and, flinching his hand back, he took a few steps away, and took a deep breath.

Ready... 

Dorian prayed he wasn't running into a trap.

Steady... 

He also prayed he didn't run into more of those strange black and white creatures.

GO! 

With a sudden burst of speed, he launched himself forward, closed his eyes, waiting to slip through the wall and-

Thunk. Dorian collided with the wall, now solid.

On his back, Dorian groaned again, staring up at the boring ceiling. He didn't bother getting up. It was exhausting just to think about it. Of course, he let out a faint whimper of complete confusion as yet another penguin clambered over his belly, slipped onto it's head, and rolled away.

"What in the world _is _this place?" He said aloud, voice shaking with frustration. Wait, who was he talking to?

"My... palace." An amused, sarcastic, sadistic and moronic voice said from behind him, laden thick with a French accent. Dorian jerked into a sitting position, immediately spinning around to face the origin of the voice. The man was tall, at least a head higher than Dorian, a top hat tilted upon his head, and a thick black cape resting over one arm. A stereotypical, curled moustache graced above his upper lip, steely, emerald eyes staring darkly from beneath tendrils of black. Dorian stared. Said nothing, and stared. The man cleared his throat, shuffling his foot a little and whispering out the corner of his lip.

**I love this guy. He's sexy. Must grope. Ahaha. Mine.**

"You're supposed to say- 'Who are you?!" He nodded, and motioned a hand to Dorian, who arched a brow, blinked, and sighed.

"Who are you?" Gray muttered in his most bored voice, arms folding neatly across his chest. The other man seemed pleased with that, and let out a bark like laugh, a boom of thunder rocking the room.

"They call me... The Artist!" Another boom of thunder.

Dorian was not amused.

"..." The Artist waited for some sort of reaction, and, thinking Dorian hadn't heard him-

"They call me... The Artist!" Another boom of thunder.

"I heard you the first time."

"Oh." The Artist blinked. "Well, you had the pleasure of hearing it a second time."

"Joy." Dorian continued to glower at the Artist, his nerves grinding, the pain from his gut and headache not making it any better.

"Just hurry up and tell me why and how am I here, and if this is some childish trick from the moronic League?"

"Ahaha! This is no trick, my dear Dorian Gray. This is more rather a treat, on my part."

"You didn't answer me."

"Oh... Well, yes, I know. The bad guys never answer the good guys questions." The Artist was flushed. Dorian wasn't helping at all.

"... How do you know I'm not a bad guy too?"

"Now you're just getting off the subject!"

"I wonder why." Dorian rolled his eyes, quickly glancing back to his painting. "Why do you have my portrait?"

"That? A _portrait? _Oh my dear boy! You are desperately mistaken. This is pure abstract! Abstract I say! Wonderful, wonderful work."

"Indeed." Dorian shifted his weight to his other foot, growing increasingly impatient.

"Answer my questions." He snapped, suddenly. The Artist stared at him for a few moments, before frowning.

"Dorian, Dorian... You're questions shall be answered in due time... Right now, however- I must have a request."

"What?"

"I request... no, no... I plead, I _plead _that you paint another of these fantastic works for me."

"No." Dorian replied simply. The Artist was stumped.

"But... why? Why not?! Dorian! Mr. Gray!"

"Simply... because I never painted it." The Artist glowered at that, green eyes suddenly blazing, his features taking on a look that was far from innocence.

"You _lie_, Mr. Gray. And I am one to despise liars. You will pay for your rudeness." Dorian was about to laugh in the Artist's face, but was suddenly pinned to the wall behind them. The Artist was fast, he would give him that. The French man stared at him silently for a few moments, and Dorian stared back, before suddenly kicking out. The Artist's movements were a blur, his arm blocking Dorian's knee, and his other grabbing Dorian's wrist before his fist could make contact.

"I told you, you would pay. Unless you decide on painting for me." Dorian narrowed his eyes, trying to pull his wrist away. With no luck.

"I already told you." He grunted, beginning to squirm. "A friend of mine painted it for me, a long time ago. He is long dead."

_Basil. Dear Basil. Some days he missed him, some days not._

"You're a liar, Mr. Gray!" The Artist suddenly shouted, causing Dorian to flinch back at the sound. He leant closer, pushing Dorian's leg back, and pinning him completely. He could barely move a muscle. Dorian cringed inwardly- well, whatever was coming, he couldn't be killed. The Artist smirked faintly, and dipped abruptly, lips brandishing Dorian in a hard, punishing kiss.

"Mmph!" Dorian choked into the kiss, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to pull away. No use. The painful kiss was broken, the Artist still smirking.

"I told you, you would pay, Mr. Gray." He whispered, which made Dorian's fingers curl into his palms from frustration.

"Bastard." Dorian hissed, and the Artist leant forward again, lips just brushing Dorian's own in a fervent car-

**We now disrupt this program for a Skinner break.**

**Have a break. Have a Skinner break.**

_**Rei: YAY!!!!!!! **_

Skinner was still recuperating from the ... escapades with Dorian, but was now able to sit without hissing in pain at his back. And that was what he was doing, sitting, alone in a little room, facing the door, which was open, and deeply indulging himself in a _Karma Sutra _book. The day had gone by without event. Jekyll was out of bed, Nemo and Mina were discussing plans to destroy Dorian, and Tom... well, Tom had disappeared.

Speaking of the devil, that was when Skinner heard soft mumblings, (which, if you listened closely, was actually 'gonads and strife' muttered over and over, growing louder) from up the hall. He blinked, looked up, just in time to see Tom careen past.

"WHEEEE!" The young American cried, and disappeared just as quickly. Skinner blinked; head tilted, and a loud crash echoed from the end of the hall. Tom had obviously spun out of control, and slammed into the wall.

"Tom?!" Mina yelled from her own room. How in earth had she known it was the American? Skinner blinked, and looked down at his book again.

His peace was not to last for long, for Tom had spun around, and darted back the way he had come. As he dashed past the open door, he shouted again.

"Gonads and STRIFE!" And, a few seconds past, before he peeked in, blinking at Skinner, who blinked back.

"Gonads and strife." Tom whispered, and grinned, when suddenly Mina appeared at the other side of the door.

"Tom Sawyer!" She hissed, and he glanced to her, letting out a little 'eep', and backing off, soon breaking into a run. Mina huffed, lifting her dress so she wouldn't trip, and rushed after him.

_I think I was better off with Dorian. _A few seconds of thought. _Actually, no._

Silence was yet again disturbed, as a fresh Doctor Jekyll bounded into the room, playing a very strange air guitar.

"Gonads in the LIGHTNING! Gonads in the raain!" Skinner tried to block out the queer song, but it didn't stop, and was made even worse as Tom hopped past, singing his part again. Skinner stood suddenly, slamming his book shut, and stalked off to sit outside, leaving Mina to round up the hyperactive men.

**We now return you to your special program.**

Dorian groaned faintly, feeling as if he had been drugged once more. He went to rub his eyes, only to find his hands had been bound tight, as were his legs. A soft snarl grew upon his lips, everything coming back to him in a rush.

And that's when Dorian vomited.

"Oh my God." He moaned, breathing hard, panic flooding his veins. "Oh dear putrid mocking God." Dorian's shoulders began to shake, and he squirmed away from the rotten smelling vomit. It was then, he realized, he was still in the vast, empty, white room. He pulled relentlessly at the ropes that bound him, but they didn't even tear. Dorian clinched his teeth. Doomed. Doomed. He never would have thought that before, but there he was, lying helpless, his clothes torn, arms and legs tied.

He was doomed.

_Basil? Harry? Anybody? ... Skinner?_

No one came.

Dorian was alone.

Again.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven (Written by Rei Nokato)**

It was a week before Rodney could walk properly again. His back was still severely out of whack, no thanks to Harker, but at least he could walk now without uncontrollably twitching with pain.

The League held a meeting seven days after Skinner's return from his night of hell. He told them of how Dorian had become hyper and had sung and danced for him. His teammates assumed the Immortal had temporarily lost control of himself and that he was going through a brief stage of despair. Rodney didn't make any mention of how he had spiked Gray's sherry.

Mina brought her fist down onto the table. "We should have chained him upside down from the ceiling. Maybe _then_ he wouldn't have escaped."

Rodney gaped at her. _She IS kinkier_, he thought, spellbound.

He gazed at her for around three seconds before her eyes flashed dangerously in his direction.

"_So!_" He rubbed his hands together earnestly. "Who fancies a bit o' toast?"

The League stared at him for a moment, before continuing with their planning. A few minutes had gone by before they were interrupted for a second time.

"Mr. Gray will have fallen asleep by now. When people lose their minds, they lose track of time as well, you see." The Captain nodded knowledgeably.

He jumped with shock as Rodney accidentally kicked a vase on the table over whilst trying to put his feet up.

"Mr. Skinner, please..." Nemo shook his head in obvious disgrace and shame. Skinner smiled weakly as Mina gave him a stern and bothered look.

"Quit it, you tool." Sawyer coughed loudly.

The Thief stood up swiftly, looking tall and quite threatening. **BLEEP! **

Tom whimpered silently. The rest of the League watched warily and held their breaths, remembering what had happened at Dinner when the American had dubbed Skinner as a 'tool'... No, nothing relentless had taken place. Skinner had kept his cool... but thebloke just _couldn't_ resist coming up with some particularly derisive tactics.

**Dinner before the Meeting that night...**

_After the meal, Rodney volunteered heartily in gathering up the tableware. Once he had all of the leftovers on one plate, he placed his coat and gloves on a chair and tipped his unfinished glass of water over his face to remove the greasepaint._

_He made sure no one could see the hovering plate of leftovers as he prowled in silence towards Agent Sawyer's bedroom._

_When he peeped in to see Tom frozen in front of his mirror, he almost gave himself away by snickering softly with malevolence._

_He leisurely strolled into the American's room, the plate held in front of him. Luckily for Rodney the Roguish, Tom was now making another worthless effort to push his hair down._

_Sawyer solidified, his hands still in his hair. Both eyes widened as he glimpsed at the reflection of a suspended dish of scraps floating over his head._

"_Skinner..." He mouthed at himself in the mirror._

_Before Tom could even think of moving out of the way, the Rogue dumped all of the contents of the platter over him. Water and other sauces seeped through the American's hair, several trails oozing slowly down the sides of his face. Chunks of uneaten food slipped down the loose shirt he was clothed in. When all of the foods had affected Tom's appearance in some degrading way, each bit landed with a dull thud on the carpet. All of the leftover rations were on the floor in a matter of five seconds._

_The sound of Sawyer's teeth grinding with frustration was unheard as Rodney roared with laughter. He dropped the plate with a clash and fled, incapable of remaining in control of his own mirth._

The Invisible Man picked up the vase slowly first. He held it in the air for a bit, deciding whether he should waste a few flowers and water on the American. Choosing not to, Rodney placed the urn upright on the table.

For three seconds he resided without motion, taking deep breaths, obviously striving to let his ferocity pass him.

"Don't try me, Sawyer..." He said ominously, before sitting down and massaging his knuckles. His teammates stayed silent for a moment. Tom let out a low whistle, relieved he hadn't become a victim of Rodney's hostility again.

The League carried on with their preparing a search party for Dorian. It was fifteen minutes before they were needlessly disrupted once again.

"Psh." They turned around to set their eyes on Skinner, who seemed to have made himself reasonably comfortable. His arms were folded and it appeared he had managed to get his feet up on the table successfully without knocking anything else over. He simply raised his gloved hand in the air, as if to say _thank you, thank you._

He had no idea why, but when he found he was tired of something (or in a word 'bored') he would become irritating and infuriating to everybody. **Like me!**

"If you're not willing to contribute, Mr. Skinner, then I suggest you _disappear_." The others nodded, agreeing with Dr. Jekyll's proposition.

"Oh, sure! Anything for you, _Quack_!" Rodney stood up and left the room. After his departure, the League persisted in preparing their next line of action against Dorian.

Skinner meandered down the darkened corridor without a care in the world.

As he walked past a moonlit window covering the wall from ceiling to floor, he heard a rather abrupt yell of angst, which made him jolt with astonishment.

"What the...?" **Rove style.**Rodney stopped and listened carefully for more noise. He could hear muffled cries for help. He immediately pictured whomever it was in trouble being gagged.

He stayed irresolute in the silvery moon's glow glimmering through the pane. He heard a thump on the roof of the warehouse. He recognised the sound of distinct footsteps making their way across the floor of the room above him.

The tread of glossy black shoes entered the corridor, which enclosed Skinner. He gasped as he noticed a shadowed figure growing larger in front of him.

"Darn -" Rodney said in an undertone, as he felt two hands grasp strongly around his wrists from behind.

"You're coming with us, Mr. Skinner." A male voice holding a strong French twang sounded from within the darkness.

"Oh, that's where you're mistaken." Rodney very suddenly pulled his wrists out of his captor's grip. He punched the lost-looking thug and bolted in the direction of the League's Assembly Quarter, where he hoped to find his teammates.

When he reached the high doors he clasped the doorknob hurriedly. It was barred.

All of a sudden, he found himself being pulled to the floor in a headlock.

"OK! I'm coming!" He yelled at the gangster holding him, the one who had previously restrained him.

He was pulled back up onto his feet. Staggered, he became horrifyingly aware of a pistol being held to his head.

"You have problems following orders anymore?" The thug whispered into his ear. There was no reply. "Well?!" The pistol was thrusted harshly into his prisoner as the brute became frustrated. Rodney shook his head fearfully.

He was escorted vehemently into the courtyard. A lengthy, gleaming limousine awaited them. He couldn't make out who was inside it though; the windows were tinted.

Cars of cheaper worth were driving wildly out the front gates and down the road.

He glanced at a car just starting up. A woman was sitting in the back seat. She was gagged strongly and someone held a gun to the side of her head. Traces of blood seeped down her chin from her mouth under the cloth. He grimaced, presuming she had probably bitten somebody. It was Mina.

Her eyes glittered, seemingly of sadness, when she saw him being steered away. She trembled as the vehicle began moving in the direction of the front gates.

Skinner couldn't look at Harker anymore, for his head was forced down as he was pushed into the back of the limousine. The thug quickly ducked in with him, keeping his gun fixed steady to his captive's head.

The Thief lost sight of everything as a blindfold was swathed over his eyes.

He recognised sounds such as the car rumbling as it was started and the crunching of gravel as the wheels moved smoothly in a turn.

He felt the bump of the car driving onto the road of cobblestone.

The next few minutes passed in complete silence, the only noise being the limo scraping around corners.

"So, Mr. Skinner," The man with the French accent said, sitting opposite from the Thief. "You made off with the valued formula which results in the consumer becoming unseen." His eyes narrowed as he considered Rodney's invisible neck. He leaned forward thoughtfully. "So... what's it like?"

There was a brief silence before the Invisible Man replied. "Let's just say... It allows me to get away with things now and then." He mumbled, a small smile breaking on his grim face.

"Ah. It must be handy, being a thief and all..." A random person shouted from up the front of the limo.

Skinner raised one eyebrow. "Well, of course... But I had quite a knack for pilfering goods _before_ I sampled the serum." He felt like throwing insults at them, the dull-witted idiots that they were. He thought twice about it when he remembered the thug holding a gun to his head.

"Is it OK that I see you?" Rodney murmured unpromisingly, slightly misplacing his patience. He heard someone click in response and after two seconds his blindfold had been removed.

The Gentleman Thief observed the Frenchman. He seemed very distracted. His face was dreadfully red. His bright green eyes darted to the window when he felt Rodney's invisible eyes watching him.

"Who _are_ you exactly?" Skinner mumbled, loud enough for the Frenchy to hear.

The jittery Frenchman squirmed slightly in his seat. "They call me... The Artist!" As if the whole thing were timed or very much on cue, a sudden boom of thunder sounded. The car shook furiously.

Once Skinner had regained his composure from the abrupt rumbling of the limo, he responded, in a way that made 'the Artist' redden to some more extent. "The Artist! Heh! Bit droll, don't you think?" The Thief never would have guessed it, but his familiar provoking grin had resurfaced.

"You think it's funny, do you?" The Artist spluttered slightly. His emerald eyes glistened strangely as he looked into Rodney's imperceptible eyes for the first time. He looked back boldly at him.

It was an odd moment. By looking into the Artist's eyes, the Thief could tell something was troubling him... Or distracting him...

The Artist smirked as the limousine at long last came to a stop.

Every door of the car opened. The thug holding Rodney thrust the pistol into his stomach. "Hurry up! Be quick about it!" He muttered to him through clenched teeth.

"OK, OK!" Skinner tried his best to move away from the barrel of the gun, but the brute kept pressing it into him. Luckily, Rodney's captor didn't catch his hasty comment. "Moody..."

Beams of evanescent moonlight slowly and gradually died as a vast shade of clouds passed over.

Skinner sighed softly as he looked at his surroundings. It wasn't a typical _bad man's lair_, but the shadow of it still posed a somewhat threat.

The Invisible Man was practically lifted up the front steps by the gangster gripping the gun. Before walking through the massive front doors, Skinner glanced behind him to notice the moonlight spreading across the front again. This encouraged him in some unfamiliar way.

They walked down an endless hall. Rodney tried as hard as possible to keep on his feet and walk progressively, but the brute holding him kept raising him off the marble floor slightly so they could reach wherever they were going at a quicker pace.

Lamps on either wall of the spacious corridor lit up unexpectedly. Lots of the ruffians following him groaned as they squinted against the glare.

Skinner contorted as the man seizing him let go of his weapon. He was afraid it would go off when it hit the marble tiles. When it didn't do anything but make a loud clatter, the Thief turned in the opposite direction and broke into a run.

Ready for his common routine, he grabbed both sides of the dividing in his coat. He began to pull it off his shoulders, when someone grabbed his arm and swiftly manoeuvred him to a halt.

"Oh, no. You're going to have to do better than _that_." A man hissed in his ear, sounding relieved he had caught Rodney before he had stripped. **-**

The Invisible Man found himself with a gun placed to the side of his head and was being threatened all over again. The thug, obviously frustrated because of his captive's escape attempt, clasped his pistol firmly, cocked the hammer and positioned his finger on the trigger.

"Now, don't you try anymore sharp moves," The ruffian whispered harshly. "Or a bullet will have to leave this gun."

"Sorry 'bout that." Rodney murmured, feeling bleaker than ever.

He started to be vigorously escorted once more, when there was an abrupt shriek from the end of the corridor.

"Turn the lights out _now_!!" It was the Frenchman. He seemed terribly distraught.

The lamps flicked off instantly. As the Thief was steered past the Artist, he heard the man muttering to his henchmen. "Lairs are supposed to be dark, you twits."

Skinner smiled dimly and thought silently, "What a moron."

Without warning, a heavy item was hit ruthlessly around the back of his head.

He collapsed, but someone grabbed hold of him before he hit the marble floor.

He rolled over in the person's arms, twitching from the impact on his neck. Every muscle and limb became awkward. His heartbeat was trembling inside his head. Urgent voices echoed around him.

His body relaxed at its own accord, his eyes closing over. He immediately understood what was happening now; He wasn't dying. He was falling unconscious.

-------------------------------------------------------

Skinner woke up with a fright, as though he had just escaped a nightmare. He became painfully apprehensive as he peered around the room and realised he hadn't just experienced a bad dream.

He was sitting up against a cold stone wall of an icy cell. His breath condensed in the air before him and faded. As he struggled to stand up, he endured a terrible ache in his head and neck.

How long had he been out of it? The first thing he did was check the pockets of his coat; He had stolen a few bits and pieces the morning before his capture.

"Damn!" He cried aloud, as he took his gloved hands out of unfilled pockets.

"Skinner?" A male voice sounded from outside his bolted door. The Thief ignored the ache in his back as he quickly stood up and walked over to the barred access. He looked out of it, gripping the iron bars tightly in case the soreness in his head made him become off balance.

"_Quack?_" Rodney smiled faintly as he said this. "Fancy seeing you here!"

Dr. Henry Jekyll beamed. "For once your attitude impresses me." He stuck his face out of the bars to glimpse up and down the little walkway between their cells. His smile became a scowl as his eyes began to follow something.

"What is it?" Skinner whispered curiously. He stayed silent for a moment before he saw what Jekyll was gazing at. A guard leisurely walked past their stone prisons.

Once the dark figure of the sentinel had gone, the two League members continued speaking quietly.

"Apparently the _Artist_, as he calls himself, has incarcerated Mr. Gray a level below us." Dr. Jekyll explained. "What he wants the League for...? I have yet to discover. I presume Dorian had a chat with him over tea... Perhaps he asked the Artist to eliminate us for him." To Jekyll's surprise, the Invisible Man chuckled.

"Trust me, Quack. This _Artist_ guy... He isn't capable of it." He sat back down against the wall and found himself relaxing and sighing with relief. What was he so unhappy for anyway? The Artist was obviously a beginner at the villain thing, so it wasn't like he knew how to exterminate a skilled group of abnormal human beings.

A few quiet minutes passed before something was brought to Rodney's attention.

"Hey! These bars are artificial!" Dr. Jekyll whispered gleefully.

"What?" The Thief sat up a bit more. Was he really hearing this? "You mean they're _fake_?"

"Yes! The Artist must be a down-right bloody genius!" Almost effortlessly, Jekyll had slightly curved two bars back. "Skinner, I think it may be best that you leave your cell and find Dorian."

"Huh? Why would I want -?"

"The Artist has no reason for keeping him here." He said simply. "I'm sure Dorian has no business being here either."

"Yeah..." Rodney could see the logic in it. "Why would Dorian want to hire anyone to do his dirty work? **(By that he means his evil-doings)** Especially a moron like the Artist?"

"Exactly!" Said Jekyll anxiously. "You go down and find Mr. Gray. I'll transform and free the others. Then we can meet out the front of this place."

"Sounds like a plan!" Skinner got back to his feet and bent two of the bars without much force. He grinned at Jekyll. "Guess I don't know my own strength."

The Thief hurriedly undressed himself and wiped his face of the greasepaint making it visible.

**Meanwhile, at the front of the Artist's lair...**

The trees swung lightly in the cool night breeze. All was quiet around the Artist's hideout. The clouds peacefully drifted over the moon.

A sound disturbed the stillness; the crunching of gravel beneath uninvited lustrous black boots. An unwelcome silhouette appeared around the corner.

The shadow walked without haste. His steps were unhurried, as though he were a tourist taking his time to look around. He whistled a light tune, stirring the air about him.

Contours reached over the front grounds of the dismal lair. The lone outline of a willowy man lingered at the front entrance. He continued whistling the eerie tune, even as one of the Artist's henchmen unlocked the grand doors.

"How can I help-" The guard's sentence was immediately cut short when his breath caught in his throat. He gasped at the slim figure standing before him.

The stranger abruptly stopped whistling. He brought his arm swiftly upon the thug in an inward curve. Concealed claws emerged and tore viciously across his chest.

The stunned sentinel fell backwards. A piercing cry coiled fiercely through the gentle wind. There was a small hush before the attacker replaced his hands in the pockets of his sleek black coat. He stepped over the body of the guard and tactlessly began whistling again, as if nothing had happened.

He continued walking at a smooth pace. His whistling stopped and changed to humming. He stalked along a blackened corridor; the same hall the League had been guided down.

Another oaf moved in front of him from the indistinguishable sides of the passage. The shadow halted and discontinued his humming.

"Wh-" The guard had no time to speak. The outsider had taken his hands out of his trench coat. The thug was now held in a harmless headlock, with a glowing golden- orange claw pointing to the side of his head like a weapon.

"Now tell me," The anonymous man said in a professional tone. "Where is the fool who calls himself the_ Artist_?"

"Or... what?" The sentinel sneered. "You'll stab me?"

"No..." The man smiled corruptly at his hostage. "Trust me," Claws uncurled from his other palm and he held them out as though he were admiring them,

"I'm sure you couldn't endure that intensity of _pain_."

"You don't scare me." The thug declared indignantly. "Do your worst!"

The stranger didn't seem taken aback at all. In fact, he seemed very unruffled.

The gleaming claw connected calmly with the side of the guard's head. Instantaneously, skin on that one side of his face began to blister and peel.

The henchman screamed and struggled to be free of the headlock. The attacker stayed perfectly composed, keeping his arm around his victim's neck with ease, a blank expression drawing across his features.

The claw slickly moved away from its sufferer's skin. The guard's face was still burning cruelly.

The uninvited man held the same claw an inch away from his prisoner's throat. This stopped his detainee from screaming. "_What_ have we learned?" The thug helplessly burst into tears.

"The-the Artist is-" The harassed sentry gulped. "The Artist is- downstairs. On the... the-the-the-the-"

"You're stuttering," Whispered the criminal, a broad smile beginning to extend obliquely on his lips.

Droplets of blood and tears rolled from the patroller's face onto the predator's arm. He took a deep breath, intended to make him relax, but he quivered wildly. His bloodshot eyes continued watering.

"The Artist is on- on the-the-" Losing patience, the invader tightened grip on his captive's neck. "On the... bottom floor..." The guard said in a strangled gasp, before blacking out. He lost his stance and hung limply in the attacker's headlock.

With that, the sinister intruder released the sentinel. The flaccid body fell with a thump on the marble flooring.

The heartless sinner's expression made him look unaware of what had just occurred. Lacking any sympathy or feeling, he persisted in casually walking down the passage.

When he reached the end of the corridor, he perceived a staircase leading to the Artist's underground hideout. He shuffled quietly to a halt, as he heeded the vague echoes of voices down the stairwell.

After another moment of deliberation, the mysterious male strode down the stairs in a relatively sophisticated manner. His arm extended towards the wall on one side of him. A claw extended further and scraped lazily against the wall. As he paced suavely down the flight of steps, a thin trail of scorched stone sizzled in the cold rock wall, revealing his claw's languid path.

**The bad guy introduced just now is pretty much the same as Thrax in the animated movie _Osmosis Jones_. I know this isn't an _Osmosis Jones_ fanfic... But I HAD to put him in! The only differences to the character in this fanfic as to the original are that he is human, not a deadly microscopic virus. He is owned by and copyright to the creators of _Osmosis Jones_. I'm just telling you this in case you recognise him and say 'Hey, she so totally copied that!' I'm putting him in because I saw _Osmosis Jones_ while I was still thinking about who the bad guy would be in _Immisible_. When he first arrived and said in that totally suave, smooth and utterly EVIL (OK. I think you get it) voice "Careful. I'm contagious," I GATHPED and thought 'SEXY!!' cough I mean 'PERFECT!!!' I can hear you mumbling 'What an unimaginative worm...' Well, that's what Jin will be thinking anyway. If you want to see Thrax in _Osmosis Jones_, I recommend you toddle off and do that... Just so then you have an idea of how MAD he is! **

_**Awe, naw. O o Only Beth is an unimaginative worm. And anyway, the Artist is like a demented version of Mr. Burns during the 'See My Vest' sequence.**_

_**Hahaha. Take THAT Pec. –vanishes- - Jin. WhOO**_


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight (**Scribbled by Jin Satoshi**) Yaygo**

"A little to the left, Dorian. Ah! Perfect! Now- no, don't move! You've just how I want you." The young painter beamed from behind his canvas, glancing to the other youth across the room, who was leaning against a pillar.

"_But Basil-"The young man protested. Locks of sun-touched russet curled against his cowslip cheeks, pink with a tad of frustration from his friend. Blue eyes continuously flicked towards the window- longing not to be stuck in the dusty study._

"_No buts, Dorian. Please- indulge me, just a few more strokes."_

_Dorian knew what that meant. It meant that he would be standing there for hours more as Basil Hallward perfected those few strokes._

"_But Basil. I'm awful tired of standing here. I wish to be outside in the sun. Can't we please go out for a while? Then I promise you I'll stand here again- all night if I must."_

_Basil sighed a little, running a hand through his dishevelled black hair, strands falling loose from its leather-bound ponytail. Small pale nose crinkled as he peeked over at Dorian, who was still staring content out the window. Another sigh, and the painter placed down his instrument of beauty- the paintbrush, and stood._

"_Alright, then, Dorian. I don't see why not. Although I'll take you up on that 'stand there all night' remark." _

"_Do you really mean it? Ah! Basil! I love you!" As innocent as that comment was, Basil couldn't help but feel odd jitters inside, and grinned as Dorian darted from his position, down the stairs, and swiftly out the door. The young artist rubbed his chin, peering out the window as Dorian waved back, motioning for him to follow. Premature lines of stress stretched as he smiled, eyes revealing such a small speck of sadness._

-------------------------------------------------------

Dorian groaned again, having been slipping in and out of unconsciousness. He shifted a little against the now warm floor, which was stained softly with his own blood. One tired, cobalt eye opened, staring blurrily at a pair of feet, crossed at the ankles, before him.

"What... did you do to me...?" Dorian's voice crackled from his parched throat, arms still bound tight behind his back, his shins tied to his thighs. The owner of the boots chuckled faintly, and slowly closed the book he had been reading, crossing his legs in the other direction.

"Ah, good Mr. Gray. I see you're awake." The Artist chuckled, having recovered from the earlier goings on.

"Answer me!" Dorian's voice grew louder, his other eye opening to add to the glare.

"Shall be answered in due time, Mr. Gray. In due time. But only if you answer my question." The Artist nodded a little, and flicked back a bang hanging before his peripheral vision.

"Bastard." Dorian murmured softly, the feeling of vulnerability twisting his stomach painfully.

"... You are _such _a tease, Dorian." The Artist replied simply, and leant back in his chair. "Now- answer me this. Why will you not paint for me?"

"Because I can't paint!" Gray suddenly burst, sounding almost desperate as he made a furious attempt to sit, only to collapse onto his back.

"You lie, Mr. Gray. But... I will not mark you again. No, you're far too beautiful for that."

-------------------------------------------------------

"_You're far too beautiful for that." Basil laughed, Dorian explaining how he would enjoy becoming a dangerous pirate, battling the seven seas with the painter at his side. The young man pouted a little, and sat down with a plop in the grass beside Basil. Dorian's friend smiled brightly to him, lying peacefully, propped up by one elbow._

"_You compliment me too much, Basil." Dorian smiled back, just faintly._

"_Basil Hallward speaks only the truth."_

"_Oh really?"_

"_Yes, really."_

"_Lord Henry says everyone lies."_

"_Lord Henry lies too, then."_

"_He makes me feel strange."_

"_I hope that isn't a good thing, Dorian." _

_Dorian blinked quietly at Basil, and then contented himself with chewing on his lower lip, staring off over the small field. _

"... _Dorian, listen to me. You can't trust Harry. He'll change you." Basil slowly sat, laying his hand against Dorian's shoulder._

"_Why would he do that?" Dorian whispered, slowly bringing his gaze back to Basil. _

_His friend could find no words to reply._

-------------------------------------------------------

"Let me go..." Dorian choked out fervent sobs, fumbling weakly with the bonds around his arms.

"Please... I'm telling the truth... I never painted it... Please..." Why couldn't he break them? He was so strong, always, always so strong. Why wouldn't they break?

The Artist sighed, and shook his head, slowly standing.

"Everybody lies, Dorian. Everybody."

"I don't!"

"Ah, but you do. You lie to all your 'friends', all your 'team mates'. You- my dear lad- are a consistent liar."

"I... I... but... why would I lie about this?" Dorian found himself struggling back tears of anguish and frustration. What was wrong with him?!

"Dear boy, dear boy..." The Artist slowly knelt down beside him, and placed a hand against his head, stroking the vein behind Dorian's ear.

Dorian Gray's eyes widened, panic flooding his blood-system, causing his heart to beat faster and faster.

"I'm afraid I'll have to kill you if you do not deliver." The Artist continued to stroke, and slowly, his hand moved to a knife by his belt.

"Oh God... Oh God... Basil... Basil..." Dorian murmured, eyes closing, unable to pull away from the cold steel that was skimming against his cheek, moving towards where the Artist's fingers rested.

-------------------------------------------------------

"_It's too late, Basil." Dorian stared at his once friend._

"_You're mad, Dorian." The other replied. "It's never too late. Dorian... please, can't you see what he's done to you?"_

"_Quiet, Basil. Quiet!"_

"_This obsession of yours! It's going to kill you!"_

"_I can't die, Basil! I'll stay like this forever."_

"... _You aren't serious."_

"_I am."_

"... '_Though your sins be as scarlet, yet I will make them white as snow.'"_

"_Stop it, Basil. Those words mean nothing. You lie. Like Henry said. You lie."_

_Strange, Dorian thought. Why was Basil bleeding? Why was that crimson liquid spilling from his tender mouth. Why were his eyes rolling up into his head? Why could he no longer hear his heart?_

_Why was he holding a bloodied knife, pressing it deep into the vein behind Basil's ear, thrusting it repeatedly into it, hatefully?_

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

_Blood on the carpet._

_He should clean it up._

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"Get yer dirty paws off him." A new voice said. It sounded so familiar. And oddly comforting. How funny. The steel was drawing soft drips of blood now, and Dorian could do nothing more but lay there, weak against the floor. The Artist blinked, and looked up, blazing emerald gaze resting against...

Nothing.

"What?" He snapped, and pulled the blade away, slowly beginning to stand.

"I said-"A sudden invisible fist connected with the Artist's face, sending him sprawling back against the pearl white floor.

"Ugh!" The villain hissed in pain, scrambling to stand.

"To get-"Before the Artist could stand, another invisible fist connected with his gut. "Yer dirty paws-"Another fist against the Artist's face, and he was slumped against the wall. "Off-"A kick to the chest. "HIM!" The Artist groaned, darkness taking over his mind, fogging up his senses.

-------------------------------------------------------

Skinner dusted his hands off, staring silently down at the unconscious body before him.

"Guh. What a waste of breath." He muttered, and turned towards Dorian, who was staring at him wearily with one eye.

"Come to finish it off, eh?" He coughed a little, lips tilting in the faintest bit of a smirk.

"Unfortunately, I'd love to. But-"Skinner sharply kicked Dorian's side, rolling him onto his stomach. "I've been given orders to come get you. And no matter how much I _loathe _your smarmy face, I don't exactly wanna kill you when yer not at yer best ability."

"How noble." Dorian muttered, cheek pressed against the floor as Skinner worked at untying his bonds. It took a while, quite a few curses from the thief, and Dorian telling him ways to try and untie it- until the rogue became fed up and stalked over to the knife, slicing the rope away, and leaving some good deep cuts in the immortal's flesh, as well.

"Learn to shut up." Skinner snapped, and repeated the process on Dorian's legs, glad that the other was still wearing pants. Dorian grunted a little, and forced himself to stand, swaying for a few moments. Skinner slid one arm around Gray's back, just as the other's legs gave way.

"C'mon, walk or I'll molest you." Skinner grumbled.

"Really?" Dorian feigned hope.

"Oh just shut up."

Dorian snickered, and received a good slap.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine (Written by Rei Nokato)**

There was a loud and violent shuffle as Dorian collapsed when walking up the frozen underground steps.

"No... You... Don't!" Skinner hissed as he leaned against the icy rock wall at one side of him. Painfully straining his sore back, he caught hold of Dorian's arm with his free hand and heaved the limp body back to his side.

Rodney became stock-still when he heard a thump somewhere on the floor above them; loose gravel on the roof crumbled and shattered into smaller pieces when it hit the floor.

Dorian groaned and began to slump backwards again. Skinner noticed at the last second and brought Gray properly onto his feet.

"Could you at _least_ keep your balance enough to walk up these stairs?" The Thief whispered, gently shaking Dorian to wake him up from the drowsy state he was in.

The Immortal glanced up at where he believed Skinner's face to be. A fat untainted tear ran down his dirt-covered cheek, a single streak of pale skin appearing.

"I'm... sorry." He muttered, hastily wiping his tired eyes.

"Hey, don't go weak on me now!" The Invisible Man squirmed a little at the thought of Dorian weeping desperately in his arms.

Mr. Gray stopped shaking suddenly. Rodney assumed the pitiable and humiliated man had grown calm.

"You OK now?" The Thief was about to give his ex-team-mate a pat on the back, when Dorian quickly turned around to face the bottom of the stairs. "Hey! What- Ugh!"

The harshly tortured man had feebly bent down and been sick all over the steps.

Rodney was just about to budge his hand away from Gray as a reflex, when he remembered that his arm was the only thing keeping Dorian balanced.

When the Immortal was finished, he gave a cough and befell soundless. He glanced at where Skinner was, guessing he was unmoving against the wall with a blatantly disgusted expression on his features.

There was a bit more silence before Dorian painfully let out a laugh. It was the first time he had done so in a _long_ time.

It was then it really hit him; Skinner was actually rescuing him. It had been quite a while since he knew a person who truly cared about him. **Well, I suppose Jin and I care but... I'll shut up now.**

"Basil... Basil..." Dorian murmured blissfully; at the same time Rodney thought the traitor had misplaced his sanity.

"Basil?" Skinner moved away from the wall. "Who's that?"

Dorian looked at the Thief with gleaming eyes. His hand moved through the air. Before making contact with anything, however...

"Oi!" Skinner slapped Gray's hand away with firm aggression. "Don't you _dare _touch me there." He spun Dorian around so he was facing up the stairs. "C'mon! Move!" He drove the Immortal forward. To the Gentleman Thief's surprise, what used to be the muddy and drab prisoner of the perverted Artist was now running up the steps gallantly, even managing to skip a step before slipping and falling flat on his face, where he began to chuckle and bawl at once.

Rodney rolled his eyes, at the same time wishing he had declined going with Quack's strategy of escape. He moved promptly to where Dorian's body lay crumpled on the steps. He knelt down next to the Immortal and helped him back up.

Once on his feet again, Gray brushed some muck off his clothes and cleared his throat. "So, are we going, or not?" He stepped lightly up the stairs, his usual acidic style of arrogance suddenly re-emerging.

Skinner remained motionless for a moment, confused by what had just happened.

_That was... weird._

He shook his head and started walking up the staircase once more.

"Mr. Skinner!!" Dorian mumbled urgently, beckoning the Invisible Man a few steps below him to come at once.

"Yes?" He stared at Dorian's face. His silver eyes, now particularly duller than before, were watching something else across the room. Skinner followed the Immortal's gaze.

A young man was arched in a corner opposite the two extraordinary gentlemen, trying valiantly to gasp as silent as possible for breath. He was shivering and whispering what seemed to be a prayer, but in an unfamiliar tongue.

"Excuse me?" Dorian addressed the foreigner quietly.

In response, the frightened man flinched and began yelling his prayer, his darkened eyes shutting firmly.

"SSSSHHHH!!!" Rodney glanced at Dorian when he found he couldn't hush the stranger's prayers. "Dorian-" The Immortal put a finger to his own lips, suggesting the Invisible Man shut his mouth.

"Something's wrong." Gray's eyes stayed fixed on the young man falling apart **(in a non-literal sense)** before them. "We have to hide."

"Hide? Why would we do that?" Rodney asked curiously.

"Come on." Dorian snatched Skinner's invisible wrist and led him towards the next set of stairs.

"No! No!" The man curled up in the corner unexpectedly shouted at them. The Immortal Man and the Invisible Chap stopped and spun on their feet to face him. "He's comingk!!!"

Dorian and Rodney exchanged looks, before bringing their eyes back to the foreign bloke. "Who's coming?" Gray inquired coolly.

"_El Muerte Rojo_!He's comingk! He's comingk to kill uss dead!" He pointed at himself insanely, his shady brown eyes widening.

"Erm... OK then." Skinner said nervously. "..._Who's_ killing us again?"

"_El Muerte Rojo_!!! He's comingk, man!"

"Excuse us, kind sir, but we must leave." Dorian started walking up the other staircase, but was pulled back by the Professional Thief. "Mr.-"

"Don't you 'Mr. Skinner' me! Didn't you listen to him?" Rodney nodded slightly to the shivering youngster in the corner.

"Yes. I did. Now let's-"

"Doesn't that imply _anything_?" Skinner muttered uneasily. Dorian stood unmoving and silent. "It means that _El_... _Whatever_ is coming after _us_!"

Gray sneered. "_El_ _Whatever_ means nothing to us. It's probably a name that another mindless fool-hardy villain is known by."

"Look," Rodney whispered uncertainly, "I'm sorry if the Artist... _hurt_ you," his whisper became softer, "but I for one do _not_ want to meet up with another person to push us around. Underestimating someone may give _you _some kind of sick determination, but-"

"But nothing, Skinner." Dorian's smirk widened. "You're a coward."

Rodney gritted his teeth, a reminiscence beginning to rise faintly in the back of his mind.

_Am no'! Am no'! I'm no' afraid of anything! ... SHUT UP! No! Leave me alone! Stop it!!! Shut- No I won' shut up! You can' talk to- OK!! Just let go of me!!!_

The Invisible Man didn't answer Gray for a moment or two. Beginning to realise his eyes were unfocused, he shook his head of the distinct recollection of his insufferable, long-passed years.

When Dorian observed Skinner's abrupt hush and stillness, he waved a hand in front of him.

Skinner flinched at this, and then dodged eye contact with Gray by looking at the shivering man in the curve of the room.

"Ah... Would you like to join us in getting out of here?" Rodney asked courteously, yet there was a strange drowsiness affecting his expression.

"_El Muerte_-"

"We don't _give_ a damn about your pathetic _fascinations_!" Dorian exclaimed, taking a step forward. "Are you coming or _not_?"

_Boy, listen to me!! You have to run!! Run as fast as you can!!!_

Skinner shut his eyes, wishing the haunting memories would go away... He could still see, though, since his eyelids were transparent as was the rest of him.

_NO!! I stole it!!! I have it!! It's ME you want!!!_

Rodney quietly growled incoherently. Dorian started and slowly turned around.

_Have mercy!! He has nothing to do with this!!!_

"No... No..." The Invisible Man began to mouth consistently.

"Where are you going?" Gray asked sternly as he heeded Skinner moving awkwardly towards the staircase.

"Don't... No..." The Thief bumped blindly into the wall.

_NO!!! Leave him alone!! I stole it!!! I stole it!!!! The boy didn't take it!!! I did!!_

There was a light. An incredible light floating ahead of him... Colours glowed roughly about the vivid beacon.

A muffled cry of distress sounded from somewhere. His vision was blurred so heavily it made him feel faint to squint ahead at a shadow approaching him. His sense of hearing had become imprecise and subdued, like he was underwater.

Dorian shrank away as a tall figure walked leisurely down the stairs in front of Skinner. The stranger held a small black chain, which he lazily twirled along his right hand. Blue slits glowed dimly in the wristlet.

"No... NO!" The alarmed man sitting in the curve of the store room stood up and started edging along the wall at the back of him.

The shadowed arrival stayed put as he watched the craven figure moving towards the basement stairs.

"Dorian..." Rodney managed to whisper. He extended his arms and walked carefully towards an outline he guessed to be the Immortal's.

There was an odd pause as he knocked against the tall shadow standing before him. "Dorian? Is that-" His knees buckled as his vision swiftly faded to black.

Terrified, Gray observed from a distance as the threatening form of a man keeled backwards a bit. The Immortal noticed a human-like dent crease the front of the stranger's trench coat-

"Skinner!" Dorian's hand travelled straight to the sheath at the left side of his waist. He expected to feel the cool handle of his blade, but instead felt thin air. He clenched his fists as the tall figure wrapped his arms around the lifeless Invisible Man.

"Let him GO!" Gray aimed a ruthless roundhouse kick at the silent shadow.

A skeletal hand automatically came out of nowhere and blocked it. The Immortal almost lost his balance as his leg was pushed back, but regained himself just in time.

_I lost you, Basil, because of my own weaknesses and infected choices... So many years have passed since I heard your last words..._

"I shall willingly kill you if you do not release him." Dorian claimed rebelliously. A strand of hair fell lightly on his pale cheek, which he heatedly brushed away.

He saw the nameless guest shake his head, as if he were amused by Gray's efforts of bravery. This made Dorian even angrier, though he didn't show it.

"You underestimate me." The Immortal tried his best not to fidget with fretfulness and anxiety. "I don't think you realise who you're up against."

"Sure I do, baby." A relaxed masculine voice resounded, belonging to the svelte silhouette. Dorian was immediately taken aback. "You're Dorian Gray, the infamously-known Immortal. Is that right?"

"You may be able to identify me, but I'm sure you do _not_ know of what I'm capable of."

"Well, actually... I do." Dorian couldn't believe this. How could anyone talk so slickly to him? He supposed it was because he was used to being the bad guy in these situations and he was surprised at being the victim. _He_ was the one supposed to be talking streetwise."Your business with the League recently... It didn't... go as planned, did it?"

Gray felt eyes watching him. As he became aware of this strange feeling, something in the darkness caught his attention; the glitter of two golden eyes.

There was a pause, and Dorian sensed that his unfamiliar acquaintance was daring him to speak.

What seemed like an eternity of stillness was disrupted by a faint moan; Rodney had awoken from his minor slumber.

Dorian watched the creased trench coat make small movement. The Immortal's eyes suddenly brimmed with tears, which he boldly blinked back.

_I lost you, Basil... I'm not losing anyone else..._

The assertive thought brought Gray into action. This time his motions were so rapid that he caught the villain by slight surprise.

"Huh?" The only sound Skinner could make.

He could feel someone pull him out of another's arms.

"C'mon, Skinner!" A familiar whisper sounded softly in his ear. "Walk! Step up these stairs! Please!"

Rodney's good perception returned to him. His eyelids flickered until he remembered what had occurred.

Dorian gasped and was still by the Invisible Man's side. When Skinner turned his head a bit, he noticed a dark figure gliding in his direction.

The Thief lifted Dorian's arm off his shoulders and crept to the side of the room.

"Skinner?!! Where are you?! Come back!" Gray shouted, obviously distressed for Skinner's safety.

Dorian cringed as the contour of the unknown nemesis' hand reached towards him, a glowing claw uncurling to touch his chest.

There was an indistinct grunt from Rodney as he charged and pushed the stranger violently into a wall. The Invisible Man issued a few punches at the enemy's face then kneed him in the groin with all the strength he could muster. Convinced he had hurt the man enough, he dashed back to Dorian's side and grabbed his hand.

"_Skinner_?!" Gray, very bewildered indeed, smiled tenderly when he felt the warmth of an invisible hand slip into his palm.

Rodney led the ill-enthused Immortal up the stairs. He stopped abruptly when they were on the next floor; Dorian ran into him.

"My stuff!" Skinner exclaimed. He let go of Dorian's hand, slid into the cell which he had escaped and threw his jacket and hat back on. He then ran back to the dumbstruck Immortal and took his hand once more.

When the two of them had clambered up three stairwells, they realised they had finally reached the very corridor they had first entered the Artist's lair by. They released hands and ran speedily down the hallway, outside, down the stone steps and out the mansion gates. They didn't halt to catch their breath until they were nearly a block away.

-------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Dorian Gray's library doors banged open.

"I'm not familiar with escapes like _that_." The Immortal said, still panting slightly. He opened his alcohol cabinet and hurriedly poured himself a glass of sherry.

The suspended jacket which had also entered the room headed straight for a bottle of scotch on a side table.

Dorian lit a fire under the mantelpiece. The two bedraggled gentleman sat themselves in an armchair each. They sat wordlessly for a few minutes as they're breathing reduced to normal pace.

"We have to go back for them." Said the Invisible Man, sitting up in his chair.

"We must rest ourselves, Mr. Skinner." Dorian reasoned promptly.

"... OK. We'll have a bi' of R 'n' R." Rodney lay back in his chair again. "But as soon as it reaches morning, I'm leavin'." He took a gulp of alcohol.

Dorian slowly sat up and stared at the fire, remaining deep in thought for roughly ten minutes. He glanced at Rodney, who was peacefully quiet and still.

"Skinner?" Gray whispered, trying his best to keep his voice from quivering. He didn't receive a response. "... Rodney?" Never in his right mind did Dorian ever believe he would be on first-name terms with _the_ _Thief_...

Still no reply. Gray heaved a sigh; by the way things were going, he would _never_ get the chance to tell Skinner...

Dorian's weary grey eyes relaxed and closed. It was the first time for a week he slept well.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Uh... Huh?" The Immortal's eyes widened and he sat bolt upright. He was in his library. He glanced at the fireplace, where the fire he had ignited the night before had burned out. "But... How?" He stayed sitting up, remembering how Skinner had come to rescue him and they had both retreated to his manor to rest for the night.

He ran his fingers through his hair and froze; it felt different than usual.

His hands still on his head, he got to his feet and walked to the alcohol cupboard. With one hand he shut the open display glass. He quickly observed his reflection in it, before yelling, "SKINNER!!!!!"

The Invisible Man stood up from the table across the room. He had applied his greasepaint, which exposed his mischievous grin. "Hm?"

"What- what have you done- to- to my _hair_?!!!" Dorian faltered.

Rodney simply beamed at him. "That fringe of yours was just _shocking_." Dorian glared. There was a weighty pause. "I drew on your face too. Thought you needed a bi' of... _animation _about you."

Gray faced his mirrored self again to notice what he had overlooked; there were ink drawings on his face. Skinner had skilfully scribbled a sweatdrop on the side of his face, a veinpop on his forehead and a circle around each eye socket which made him appear to have huge glasses. "Grr-" Gray turned to face Rodney again.

"Now now, Dorian. No need to get _feisty_." Skinner keeled over laughing. Once he had regained rule of himself, he wiped his eyes and sat down to read more of the Karma Sutra Portfolio he had found under his armchair.

Gray stood for several minutes in front of a large mirror downstairs, making an effort to neaten his hair. When he had styled it to look similar to what it had before, he headed for the secret trapdoor to check on his most exquisite possession-

"Wait a minute." Dorian muttered. The Artist had his treasured painting. He had forgotten all about it in the rush of escaping with Skinner.

He hastened back to the library.

"So? Does that mean we're leaving?" Rodney said quietly after Gray had explained the crisis he had not counted on.

"Of course we're leaving! Do you really believe I would leave the Artist to get away with what he _did_ to me?!!" Suddenly realising he had just hysterically blurted out what he had promised not to tell anyone, he cleared his throat loudly and looked nervously at the Thief for a reaction; Rodney's mouth was slightly opened.

"He did _what,_ you say?" Skinner stood up, looking kind of suss. "Did he... _molest_ you in any way?" At first he smiled a little, but he forced it away when the Immortal lowered his head timidly. "Please tell me." The Invisible Man, revealed by his coat, hat and shoes, approached Gray, his unhurried footsteps almost soundless on the carpet.

Dorian slowly looked up at the Gentleman Thief. He looked profoundly into the invisible eyes that seemed to be looking into his in the same soothing way. The most tranquil moment of their lives had to have been then.

"He _did_ make you suffer, didn't he?" Rodney smirked and gently placed his hands on Dorian's shoulders.

This was the moment the Immortal had been waiting for...

**Drum roll, please! Dudududududududududududududuuu...**

Skinner violently shook him. "Dorian, can you make us some muffins? I'm maiiighty hungry."

"Huh?" Dorian raised his eyebrows.

_Whaaaaaaaaaat??????? But I thought..._

"Hee," Skinner beamed. "I mean ah... Can we save the day now?"

"Um, yeah. Sure. Why not?" Gray smiled weakly and left the room. He entered the room fifteen minutes later, wearing a classy tuxedo and shimmering sunglasses. Across his right arm he had another suit for Skinner to wear.

"Could you change into this, Mr. Skinner?" Dorian asked politely.

"Uh ha... No." Rodney answered, as he looked at the Immortal's clothing. "I'd prefer to retain my _own _attire, thanks."

"_Fiiine_." Gray sighed vehemently. "Could you do me a favour?"

"I don't know. Can I?"

"Would you mind buttoning up your jacket? It's rather chilly outside, you know."

"And you're suggesting...?"

"You could catch a cold."

"I prefer it open, thanks."

"Er... OK then. Just... please fasten it up when we get to-"

"NO! I never button it unless someone makes me." _Like Harker._ "Besides, as I'm sure you must have guessed by _now_, it makes me feel rather invigorated-"

"_OK_ _fiiine_. Be that way."


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter 10 (**by YOUR MOM

"_El Muerte Rojo... El Muerte Rojo..._" Dorian murmured quietly to himself. Skinner was waiting patiently outside, as the Immortal searched through his vast library for any Spanish translation books. He bit his lower lip, and pulled one certain old, thick book out from the corner, and flicked through it quietly.

Meanwhile, in the Artist's Lair... 

Mina was growling dangerously, furious dark orbs narrowed at the guards and iron bars that surrounded them. Tom was lying unconscious beside her, a trail of crimson blood seeping from a wound on his forehead. Nemo was silent, staring at the ground, and Jekyll was conversing with a strange looking French man, who sat in the corner, his arms tied behind his back. His small moustache twitched, and he meekly replied to Jekyll's interrogating.

Mina was _not _impressed. It wasn't like the League to be beaten like this. And how many times had they been captured that evening? Twice. Twice, for God's sake! Mina stood, and began pacing angrily. If only they had Quartermain. He was the one with the plans. Mina was... she winced faintly to herself, rose-red lips pursing tightly.

"So, you're _really _a well-known villain?" Jekyll was peering most interested at the Artist, bright eyes wide with awe.

"Well... uhm... sort of." The Artist attempted a weak smile, though it failed. Inside, his organs were wrenching. He couldn't even remember how he got there. Now he felt like Dorian.

"Is you're name really the Artist?" Jekyll pried again.

"... No." The Artist sighed.

"... Then what is it?"

"... Ferdinand. Ferdinand Pierre." Ferdinand turned crimson, and averted his eyes to the cold ground. Jekyll, however, smiled pleasantly, and patted the other on the shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Ferdinand. We'll get out of this alive."

That didn't make Ferdinand feel any better.

Before the Artist could reply, suddenly a small form was dragged past their cell. All of the League members who were able-bodied lifted their gazes to stare through the small rectangular opening at the door, at the shrieking form of some Spanish man. He squirmed like burning snake, saliva spitting from his mouth at the guards who were dragging him. Taking a mighty breath, he finally let out the most familiar words...

-------------------------------------------------------

"The Red Death!" Dorian cried, pushing the doors open and almost stumbling into Skinner in his rush to get outside. "El Muerte Rojo is the Red Death!" He almost beamed, holding up the large thick translation book.

Skinner arched a brow, and absently re-adjusted his hat. "Thaaaat's great, Dorian. But that doesn't help us."

Dorian smirked, eyes gleaming.

-------------------------------------------------------

"El Muerte Rojo?" Jekyll murmured quietly to himself, and narrowed his eyes. He had heard that some place before- he was sure of it. And that was when Mina turned on the Artist.

"This is _your _headquarters! You should _know _how to get out of these cells!" She hissed viciously, causing poor Ferdinand to shrink back against the wall.

"I... I... I can't.... can't remember..." He stammered, hands writhing in their rope bonds.

"If you don't _remember _now I swear to God I'll drink you dry!"

Uhhhhhh that sounded dirty. --- 

Ferdinand gulped softly again, and Jekyll tried to intervene.

"Please, Mina, just leave him alone for a few moments." He whispered softly back, but the vampire didn't listen. Instead, she snarled, revealing neat triangulars, and pushed past him to grip the Artist's collar. He yelped, wriggling even more.

"Do you remember now?" She growled, voice rumbling in her throat.

"I-I-I..." Ferdinand began, eyes averting to the door, where a hairline crack had made it's way up to the small rectangular window.

And that's when recognition bloomed.

The cell the League were locked in was compact and dank. On the outside, the guards could only see inside if they peeked through an open rectangular shape on the door. The walls were made of hard iron, and were practically unbreakable.

It was, of course, the kind of cell James Bond would be put in, because there would always be a way out. But see, the League wouldn't have to go through all the action of escaping- because, due to funding reasons, the Artist could only afford plastic and cardboard doors.

Back at Dorian's Mansion ... thing... 

"See?" Dorian held up an old newspaper clipping in front of Skinner's face, and waved it around a little.

".... I'd be able to see it better if you stopped waving it." Skinner replied in a grumble, and snatched the paper away. Dorian pulled a face and mouthed Rodney's sentence, rolling his eyes before pointing at the large heading.

"Can you _read _it?"

"Of course I bloomin' _can_, you reject."

"Whatever." Dorian smiled slyly, and folded his arms.

"Red Death Sweeps Britain. Isn't that supposed to be black?" Skinner read out the headline, and then blinked, peering up over at the paper at Dorian. The Immortal shrugged, and itched at his freshly shaved beard. Poor thing.

"... That's what everyone else said, too. But it was different to the plague. People... just seemed to burst into flame."

"They call that spontaneously combusting."

"I don't mean like _that_." Dorian huffed, and shook his head. "Anyway... One of the victims managed to survive long enough to say the name of his murderer." Dorian stated matter-o-factly, and pointed at the last line.

"_. . . Most have been childishly naming this terror of a disease '**Anthrax'.** We are not sure if this is a **type** of Anthrax, or not, but one of the victims managed to recall the 'creature' saying his name was . . . **Thrax.**"_

"I still don't get how this can help us." Skinner arched a brow, and handed the paper back to Dorian. Gray let out an exasperated sigh, and placed the newspaper clipping back on his desk.

"Do you realise, that knowing somebody's name is one of the greatest weapons of all time?"

"Oh yeah?"

"... Mm-hmm."

"... Interesting."

Dorian cocked a brow, and pulled a face again. "Shkinner?"

"Mm?"

"... Shut up."

At the Artist's Lair again, which has been overrun by Thrax (who _isn't _Anthrax)'s lackeys... 

"WHAT?!" Mina practically screeched at Ferdinand.

"Well... I... I didn't know... I thought... I thought that you wanted to make... y'know... a dramatic exit... or... or something." He murmured meekly, and sniffed.

Mina's eyebrow twitched, and she sent a powerful kick into the door. It shook, and in place of her shoe toe, was a deep dent. "We can make a dramatic exit anyway! I can't _believe _you didn't tell us the walls were PAPER!"

"Well... not really the walls, just the doors. And... it's cardboard, not pa-"

"I. DON'T. CARE!"

"Ooookay."

Mina took a deep breath, and quickly tucked some strands of hair behind her ear.

"_Now _we can go."

**God. Back at Dorian's. Rahrah. Blahblah. ;**

"Alright. Let's go destroy Thrax, and that pitiful Artist chap." Dorian swept his cane into his hands, topping his head with an elegant grey bowler hat. He stood patiently at the door, lifting a steely gaze towards the stairs, where Skinner was slowly ambling down.

"Cor- nuh, Gray, we're getting the League first." Rodney replied as he shuffled his own hat on, pushing a new pair of pince-nez onto his invisible nose.

"No, Mister Skinner, first we destroy Thrax and the Artist. Then we can help your moronic League." Dorian arched a brow, leaning softly against his cane. One ankle crossed over the other as he stood, his spare hand resting against his hip. Skinner stopped half way down the stairs, white painted lips tautening.

"I think you misunderstood me, _Mister _Gray- first we get the League. Tha's our main priority, hear?" He placed his gloved hands against the railings of the stairs, which brought back some unwanted memories of Dorian sliding down it in an almost sexy way. Skinner crinkled his nose, jerking his hands away sharply. Damn it, he wasn't gay. Not GAY. He liked Mina, damn it. Not men. Mina. Men. ... Dorian was looking quite handsome today... Dammit!

Dorian chuckled silkily, lifting his hand from his hip to rub a recently scrubbed face. "Stop being dim, Skinner. Oh, no, wait... you can't help it. But we _must_destroy Thrax and the Artist first."

"Shut up. I refuse- we're saving the League."

"_No_- we're killing Thrax."

"We are _not_!"

"We _are_!"

And that was when Skinner flung a very expensive looking vase at Dorian's head.

The Artist's Lair: Dundundundun... 

The bodies of Thrax's cronies were piled up outside the cardboard prison, which now had quite a large hole in it. Mina cracked her knuckles, kicking one last man before turning sharply on her dangerous heel, and following after the rest of the League- Artist included.

Getting out of the Lair had been a tad bit harder, though all they seemed to run into were a few weak guards. The main problem was that Ferdinand couldn't remember a way out of his own Lair, seeing as he'd always left from the front of the galleria. He didn't tell the League this until they had exited out the back way, and ended up in a stinking alleyway- he'd thought they'd rather go out the back way, for it would be more secretive. Yet again Mina almost killed him.

Yay more Dorian and Skinner! 

Dorian hung a somewhat dazed head, the Immortal sitting pathetically in one of the plush chairs in his library. His hands were tied to the arms of the chair once more; a gag around his mouth to keep him from repeatedly yelling insults at Skinner as the Invisible Rogue grumpily left the mansion. It took only fifteen minutes for him to untie himself, and wander over to his window.

But Skinner was long gone. Dorian cursed faintly to himself, rubbing a hand through lustrous black hair. The imbecile! What did he think he was going to do, barge in there, all guns blazing, and save the League without getting a scratch? Ugh, how the Invisible Man annoyed Dorian so. Especially since Rodney had managed to somehow tie Dorian to a chair without getting stabbed in the process. Quite kinky, really.

Dorian rolled his eyes, quite unhappy that Skinner had gotten in the way of his plan. Yes, he _did _have a plan. Find the Lair (which wouldn't be hard, for there was a large sign reading 'The Artist's Lair- a new Gallery' down Butterfield Road, pointing in the direction of the large warehouse), kill Thrax and the Artist, and then, well, kill the League as well. Skinner wouldn't have died, Dorian would see to that. Rodney was...

Dorian shook his head as he made his way into his study. Rodney was just special, that was all. He didn't have any damn feelings for the stupid thief. None at all. Not even as a friend.

Well, maybe as a friend.

Skinner growled to himself as he stalked down the misty street, fists bundled into the pockets of his jacket. There was already a bruise forming over his cheekbone where Dorian had landed quite a good punch, but Skinner was easily ignoring the pain. He had better things to do, like finding the League.

"Damn that freaking immortal." Skinner grumbled beneath his breath, kicking at a loose stone, which ricocheted off the nearest wall, and into an alley.

A yelp came from the shadowed area- the rock must have connected with someone, quite painfully it sounded. Skinner blinked, tilting his head in the yelps direction, and slowly made his way towards it.

That was when he heard Mina's voice.

"What do you _mean _we could have gone out the front way without getting lost?!" She shouted, and when Skinner looked, she was leaning over the cowering figure of that French bloke he'd beaten the crap out of. Yanno, the one that molested Dorian? The Artist, obviously.

"I thought... you'd... uhm... _want _to go out the back way?"

"Why on EARTH would we WANT to go out the BACK way?!"

Skinner attempted to block out her shouting, barely making out the shapes of the figures behind her. There was Jekyll, trying to get his word in and help poor Ferdinand, and then Nemo beside him, with Tom's unconscious body draped over his shoulder. Skinner rolled his eyes. Somehow, this lot was actually quite comforting.

"Hello, my freaky darlings." A sarcastic grin was set against his lips now, as the Invisible Man sidled into the alley.

All eyes turned towards him, Mina stopping half shout to stare.

"Skinner?"

"Yes lovely? Oh, by the way... how in hell'd you get out of this one?"

-------------------------------------------------------

Dorian grumbled quietly to himself as he stalked about his study (a room just down the hallway from his library). So far, he had found nothing that could help them destroy Thrax. Not that he cared- why would he? The only reason why he wanted to be rid of the monster was because it had hurt Skinner. And, well, called Gray 'baby'. That had been kind of scary.

The Immortal stood in the corner of the small room, holding a candle above the pages of a thin book, steely eyes scanning the words quickly. He was so indulged in his reading that he didn't seem to notice when a form silently moved into the study, their features hidden in the shadows. That was- until they placed a hand on his shoulder.

Dorian jumped, candle extinguishing, spun to slam the book against the intruder's face, only to be pushed back against the shelf; book flying straight over the figure's head. Gray grunted faintly, a hand jerking to the side to grab his sword, when whoever had pinned him took a step back. They bent, lifting the dropped candlestick and placed it neatly on the table. Soon after igniting it, the 'intruder' was now revealed as, yes, the one and only Wilhelmina Harker. The vampire brushed herself off, lifting a dark gaze to stare at Dorian.

"Hello, lover." She lifted a brow as Dorian slowly unsheathed his sword.

"What brings you here, dear Mina? I thought you were still trapped in that lovely Artist's place." Dorian tilted his head slowly to one side, that familiar, knowing smirk lacing over his lips once more.

Mina shrugged, swinging her scarf over one shoulder as she took a step closer.

"Tsk, Dorian. I thought you were smarter than to fraternize with such a stupid villain like the Artist."

"Fraternize? Why, whatever do you mean?" Dorian took a step forward also, both brows lifting.

"I mean-"Mina's voice immediately snapped from its pre-coital simmer, to fester dangerously as she snarled. "You never change, Gray. I know you're working with the Artist to destroy us; even if he _is _a complete git."

Dorian rolled his eyes, leaning one hand against his cane.

"Why would I want to do that for? I can kill you on my own."

"You didn't succeed last time."

After this, came silence, Dorian turned. He picked up the book he had thrown, and simply continued to read.

"Don't turn your back on me, Dorian!" Mina snarled, her voice picking up a grating sound, as if her vampiric teeth were grinding against one another.

Dorian ignored her, quite simply.

Mina snapped, completely, her last nerve had been ground to the last grain. Sharply she swung her knife forward, catching Dorian against the small of his back. He stiffened, though barely flinched. Turning, he once more pulled at his sword, lashing back at Mina. The vampire countered the attack, ducking below the flashing blade, and shoving the tip of her knife into Dorian's thigh. Gray ignored the momentary pain, prior to sharply kneeing upward, catching Mina's face. She staggered backwards, hair flinging out of its proper bun as she immediately entered the battle, slicing her leg around to catch Dorian's side and slam him back against the desk.

"I'll murder you for good this time, Gray." Mina growled low, faster than she was the last time the two fought, for she abruptly slammed her knife down into Dorian's arm. The immortal bit back a loud curse, attempting to pull himself from the table. While he was busy trying to pry the knife from his arm, and the oaken desk, Mina smirked to herself. Dorian seemed to be suffering lack of concentration, though Mina was left dumbstruck as to what he could be thinking about. Instead of pondering on that point for a while, she flounced forward, slithering the Immortal's sword from his loosened grasp.

Dorian's grey eyes lifted to Mina's own blue, before the sword came sharply into his gut. It sliced easily through flesh, organ, sinew and bone, even table.

"... Ow." Dorian wheezed faintly, back managing a small arch as he left his pinned arm, and went to pull at the sword. Mina snapped her hand forward, lacing long fingers about Dorian's chin to push his head back against the table.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to taste your blood, Dorian..." She murmured, slowly leaning closer.

And that was when the most unusual hero arrived, or, well, had been there the whole time, and just simply decided to join in at that moment. Mina was unexpectedly thrown back, away from the restrained everlasting Dorian, and against the wall. Apparently this was all done by thin air, until the imperceptible protagonist picked up a book. It clocked Mina right on the forehead.

"Get over yerself, Harker!" Rodney Skinner snapped from his position beside Gray. The immortal had finally unfastened his arm, and was now still working on twisting the sword out from his insides; which also wasn't a very pleasant feeling.

Mina stared, softly brushing a small trickle of blood away from her lips.

"Skinner? What... what are you doing?" Her voice seemed a little meeker than usual, though she slowly squared her shoulders.

"To be damn truthful, I have no bloody idea." Skinner replied.

"I knew it!" Mina quite suddenly cracked her knuckles, an eyebrow twitching. "You're working with Gray, against us! How could I have missed it? I don't believe you, either, Skinner!"

"Shut up." Dorian grunted, his sword landing with a clatter against the carpeted floor. He slowly slunk from the table, holding his abdomen as the wound slowly faded away into ash.

"Stay out of it, Dorian." Skinner gave the Immortal a shove, which simply earned him a blank blink. "And you, Mina, stop jumping to stupid conclusions. I jus' like the table, is all. I didn't want you staining Gray's dirty blood all over it."

"Won't you just admit it and save me the trouble of having to bleed it out of you?" Mina took another small step forward.

"I don't have anything to admit!"

"Why don't you both take this outside?"

"Shut UP Gray!" Mina and Skinner both snapped in unison.

"Al-l-right."

Skinner and Mina continued their heated argument, causing Dorian to unnaturally receive a bad migraine. It became even worse when the other League members arrived at the door of the study, staring quietly, including the Artist.

"What is _he _doing here?!" Dorian abruptly shouted, voice raging over those of Skinner's and Mina's. Everyone turned to stare.

"Oh, hello my lovely Mister Dorian Gray." Ferdinand wiggled his fingers and smiled pleasantly, one side of his moustache twitching.

"GET OUT!" Sword up, Dorian moved to the Artist, the tip of his blade slashing poor Ferdinand hard across the face. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" The hilt of his sword next met Nemo's nose, and Dorian's foot slammed up into Jekyll's crotch.

Skinner stayed completely silent, hoping Dorian wouldn't come attack him either. The poor League members had no hope as Dorian continued to beat at them, including Mina, until they were all shoved dazed outside, the door locked tight behind them. Dorian flung his back against the door, chest rising and falling hard. He let his sword slip again, eyes closing for a few moments.

Dorian became alert once more when he heard footsteps moving down the stairs, and he lifted his gaze to stare at the long leather jacket hovering mid-air at the small platform.

"Nice _work_ Gray." Skinner muttered grumpily, arms crossing over his chest. Dorian clenched both fists at that, moving quickly away from the door, up the stairs, as if prepared to try and punch the invisible man.

Skinner lifted both hands to shield his face, stepping back. "Whoah! Whoah! Easy-"He stopped short when he felt Dorian's arms slink around his back, the Immortal's head nestling against the base of his neck. Skinner absolutely, _completely _froze. His arms jerked to his sides, remaining still as Dorian hugged him.

"I just..." After a few moments of awkward silence, Dorian slowly lifted his head away, though still held a tight grip on Skinner's back. Rodney was very glad that he was invisible, or else Gray would see his cheeks flush a bright crimson. "... Wanted to say..." Gray continued, slowly inching closer, and closer.

"Thank..." Now he was far too close for comfort, nose brushing up against Skinner's own. Dorian tilted his head, moving _even _closer, when a fist suddenly met his cheek, sent him staggering to the side, and onto his backside against the steps. Skinner lifted both fists, preparing to punch Dorian again.

"Don't _ever _do that again, Gray." Rodney rumbled.

Dorian stared at the floor, a hand against his cheek, shoulders sagged. His nose slowly crinkled as a snarl laced his lips, silver eyes nay innocent, yet cold and full of hatred once more.

"Get out. Go join your stupid League. Die along with them, Mister Skinner. Just... get out." He whispered, remaining seated.

Skinner didn't need Dorian to say anything else. He turned, snatching up his hat and shoving it on his head, continuing on, even till he was two blocks away from Dorian's mansion. The thief slowed his pace, a sigh escaping his lips as he stopped.

"Shit."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven (Written by Rei Nokato)**

"I- I'm so sorry, sir. They just seemed to- to disappear. Just like... _that._"

"Ah. I'm afraid that isn't the case. So sorry."

"...For what, sir?"

"For this."

A scream corresponded with the unexpected answer. The resonance of a body being brutally thrown to the floor sounded through the many passages that were Thrax's lair. **Well, technically speaking, it's still the Artist's lair, but it's Thrax's for now. :**

"Well, now... Didn't think I'd meet _you_ again..." A tall and leering man whispered to himself, as he hung a black chain before his face. There were many blue slits in the wristlet; though it was only one of the glowing beads which roused Thrax's attention.

In the tiny orb, he placidly observed a young ginger-haired boy staring up at him. It was the boy he had ran into roughly two decades ago. That youthful lad had nearly ruined him.

There were only very indistinct sounds coming from the bead. The boy threw something to the ground and fled out of vision.

"You have just given me a _splendid_ idea." Thrax twirled the chain lazily along his claws. After standing soundlessly for a moment, he began to again watch the memory in his chain. He discontinued perceiving the little boy and sighed.

He leant against the wall, his claws clattering quietly on the cold brick. He traced his index finger along the wall, mindlessly drawing noughts and crosses, as he hummed and thought of his next line of action. After a moment of deliberation, he had finished his noughts and crosses game. He scratched a deep burning stripe over the winning line of noughts.

"Perfect!" He swung his claws through the air, coming in contact with the corner of a desk and flinging a chunk of it to the wall.

**In the lonely streets of London...**

"Shit."

The Invisible Man shuffled slowly to a halt and stood silently on the pavement. He could still feel the slight warmth of where Dorian's arms had bound around his coat.

_I've really done it this time. What am I to do now? No League... No Dorian..._

Rodney let out an infuriated sigh as he looked up at the gloomy overcast sky. There were no wishing stars to be seen that night.

He hung his head and swayed to and fro on his feet. He sniffed and glanced again overhead. The shades of cloud were moving at different speeds to one another.

Low rumbles of thunder made the rusted gutters on the roofs of London vibrate softly. The Thief watched as millions of glinting specks fell over the cobblestone street like a heavy sheet. He remained motionless and unaffected as the rain relentlessly pelted down on him. He became slightly more aware, however, when a strong gust blew his hat cleanly off his head. He spun around and saw it fly down the forlorn lane.

He wanted to _walk_ after it, but realised that if he did not _run_ he would lose his one and only hat.

It plopped into a great puddle on the soaking road and slowly became drenched.

"God's sake!" Skinner muttered, thrusting his sodden hat on firmly.

"Con_found_ it!" He recoiled as an unwavering bother started further up the street. He regarded the sound of a door being slammed with quite an amount of rage, though the noise was muffled by the storm.

There was a short silence, but just as Rodney was growing calm the window of a house up the road was shattered.

"The _infinite_ details!!!" Another smash, much louder than the last. "All my life it may take me!!" Smash. "_Cheated_!!" The insistent yells soon became colourful curses.

Skinner ducked into the alleyway beside him as he perceived a man walk promptly around the corner.

The hurried footsteps stopped. Rodney held his breath; the livid bloke was reassuring himself that he had not seen a floating hat and possessed jacket on the footpath.

The Gentleman Thief bit his invisible lip. He was used to the constant befuddled looks he received during his occasional walks through London, but this... _particular_ individual by some means alarmed him; he seemed an unpredictable and impulsive madman that would lash out at things he was unable to explain.

_Come on… Go… It was just your imagination…Get going…_

He heard a light footstep very close to the corner; the stranger was creeping towards him.

Skinner silently took a deep breath and glanced around. He couldn't strip and run for it; the person would see his outline in the torrential rain. The wild thought of climbing up the wall like a spider came to him, but he blinked and put that impossible plan aside.

He looked at the ground thoughtfully.

"Could it _be_-?" The anonymous man mouthed. He reached a gloved hand around the bend. He swiftly stepped around and-

No one was there.

"What's _this_, now?" He picked up a black leather coat and a fine-quality hat off the ground. The man's spectacles glittered. He stared down at the clothes for a minute.

Abruptly assuming a different air other than that of suspicion, the stranger shrugged. "Must have been my, aah… _imagination_."

The stranger stood ineptly for a minority of seconds, as if waiting for an answer, then draped the coat over his forearm and gripped the hat in his other hand.

He was about to turn when he suddenly doubled back, like he was _double-checking_ no one was there.

Once the atmosphere returned to its voiceless state, and the only sounds were the many pit-pats of water on cobblestone, Skinner cursed softly at the loss of his garments. He was, however, exceptionally thankful the unforeseen arrival had not discovered him.

Rodney edged nervously along the wall, the iciness of the bricks causing him to flinch. This way he could relocate the daunting man who acquired his clothes without having the risk of people clarifying his profile in the rain; the overhead gutters sheltered him flawlessly.

He halted at the corner, made a small gasp for air, and then jumped to the other side. The padding noise of his bare feet was noticeable amongst other sounds.

He breathed a soft sigh of relief, only to turn around and see the formerly mad stranger leaning against the wall beside him. Skinner's breathing stopped temporarily.

The person had not noticed. The Invisible Thief stood there for what seemed like an eternity, before discerning his unfamiliar acquaintance's lack of movement. His hat was tilted forwards, so it covered most of his face. He was breathing and all that, but it seemed he had dozed off.

Rodney raised his hand outwards and gently took hold of his black coat. As slow as he could, he let it slip out of the man's crossed arm.

_Okay. _Skinner silently put on his jacket. _Now for my hat…_

He stepped carefully around the stranger. The Rogue kneeled down a tad and attempted to pull his hat out of the other's hand.

He took a pace back before gasping with fright; the unknown person held the hat with an extremely tight grip which Rodney could not break without awakening him.

It seemed to go on forever. He simply stood there, trying hard not to sneeze every time an icy chill of wind came by. He eventually rolled his eyes and made for his hat.

As Dorian had done, Skinner counted down in his mind.

_One… Two… _

The stranger shifted. His spectacles glimmered as he idly turned his head to look to his right-

He gazed at the unfilled jacket hanging in mid-air. He looked at the ground, shook his head and flicked his hat up. Rodney unintentionally swore.

He apprehensively perceived an entirely bandaged face with round glasses covering two eyes. The binding pleated and creased with a smirk.

Skinner gulped; the man's wicked smile extended.

**Meanwhile, at a warehouse on the east side of London…**

"Skinner? A traitor?" An American-accented voice sounded athwart the room.

The League had returned to their headquarters. It had taken a short time to break into it though, since the Artist's henchmen had locked all of the doors.

Two extraordinary gentlemen and a slightly rustled woman ended their discussion to turn around and see their wounded teammate struggling to sit up in his blankets. Ferdinand, who happened to be good at _something_, had wrapped a bandage securely around Tom's forehead to cover up a dripping cut.

"He _can't_ be…" Everyone was silent to allow a terribly weakened Sawyer to speak. "Remember the last time we suspected it? He was helping us… And we judged which side he belonged to before we even knew what was going on!" He buried his face in his hands, the effort of sitting up causing him severe drowsiness.

Jekyll peered out into the hallway. "Ferdinand!" He waited tolerantly for a reply.

"Yes! Yes, I'm coming!" The Artist made his way down the corridor with a business-like sweep in his stride. **In fact, you could say he was walking with the same sexy manner Luka Kovac possesses. Aaah, Luka… D**

"It appears the medicine has worn off." Said Quack to the Artist, making a small gesture in Tom's direction.

"Mm. I'll get right to it." Ferdinand left the room, only to reappear holding a black briefcase. He grasped the back of a chair next to Sawyer's bed and pulled it closer. Opening the briefcase, the Frenchman hauled a roll of bandages and a specified drug in the form of liquid quivering in a phial. He sat briefly in thought for a moment, examined the items laid out in front of him and started to aid Tom's wounds.

"Come now, everyone." Nemo murmured. "Let us leave Ferdinand to his work."

"Captain-" Mina seemed uneasy to leaving the Artist with Tom.

"I will _not_ hear it, Mrs. Harker." The Captain marched out of the room.

"Come, m' lady." Jekyll patted the vampire's shoulder sympathetically. Harker stared bluntly at Ferdinand as he began to unroll Sawyer's bandages. She nodded and swiftly departed. Henry followed suit.

-------------------------------------------------------

"…Uh… Huh?" Rodney rubbed his head; a sore and fresh bruise beginning to swell on his forehead. He could not remember anything.

He turned onto his side, only to hastily land on his back again; it seemed his arm was impaired. He glanced at it hesitantly. It was exceedingly tender. Guessing it was broken, he cursed under his breath.

He was lying in darkness. With much difficulty, he managed to sit up and lean his back against a damp wall, trying all the while to keep his arm still. He managed it, though he discovered other forgotten injuries. He had a severe gash on his chest which when he observed closer was in fact a burn of some sort. Raising an eyebrow, he also noticed abrasions around both his wrists, like wiry and barbed handcuffs had been wrapped compactly around them.

_Wait a moment… I…_

It knocked him hard; his wounds were visible.

_But… How…?_

Amazed, he watched the blood seep out of his flesh wound and the floating red fluid dotted in the air where he had his wrists held out. He gawked at them for a while.

His attention was taken off his injuries for some time, however, when he spotted a note on the floor next to where he lay earlier.

He half-crawled to it; he could only really get to his knees and slowly move himself forward with one arm. He snatched it up hastily and reversed to his sitting place.

_Skinner,_

_Terribly sorry our introductions were not made tonight. It is quite sad to think the only two invisible men in existence have not become acquainted with one another. We must learn to work mutually. I ask you assist me in commencing the deferred Epoch of the Invisible Man. Invisible Man the First (am I) asks for your presence at the rear of the local town hall tomorrow night. Ignorance of this demand will finish result in my trouncing your teammates – yes I know who they are - and I pledge I am not a sham. So, tomorrow it will be that, after so many years, I will congregate with the other invisible man inhabiting this monotonous world – the terror we shall spread._

There was neither regards nor a name of the correspondent. Rodney ripped the letter to shreds and used it as confetti.

After a while, he half-wished he hadn't destroyed the note; he was beginning feel tiresome of the remarkable dullness of his captivity. He looked at the letter and decided he would try to reassemble it.

Doing this, Skinner hoped, would seize an immense amount of his time.

'_Invisible Man the First'? Who the devil...?_

**In the League's Meeting Quarter...**

"I don't _believe_ it!" Mina slammed her fist onto the table, her teeth bared viciously. "Can't you see? Skinner is our _enemy!_ You're talking absolute _nonsense!_"

"M' lady, he is simply doing as he has done before! He is _deceiving_ the enemy! _Why_ can't you see it? We have to _favour_ him! We can't go _against_ him!" Special Agent Sawyer was fixed on defending his invisible teammate's innocence.

"I'm not favouring anyone who indiscreetly smacked me in the face." Mina finally muttered, her face flushing. Tom quickly became pale.

"_What?_" Jekyll grew pale as well. "He hurt you? But... maybe..."

"_Why_... just face it. He is no longer one of ours." Harker blinked in silence for a moment, before leaving the room hurriedly. Jekyll rushed to the doors and unbolted them for her.

After the doors quiet closing, the League remained soundless until Mina's hurried footsteps had faded. Quack was first to speak.

"He-he has crossed the line this time." His statement sank dreadfully into the quiet. "He may deceive the enemy, perhaps having to make few sacrifices in making us clueless as to his actions... but he has no need for intentionally hurting his allies. He has crossed the line... Excuse me." Henry left.

"Well-" Sawyer began, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Face it, Agent Sawyer. Harker is right." Nemo lowered his head remorsefully. "We have indeed lost Mr. Skinner and his loyalty."

Tom sat, blurry-eyed, in a chair; He shed tears, not for the loss of his friend, but concerning the intense pain forming from the cut on his forehead.

"This is just so... so _stupid_." Tom whispered, his air slightly that of petulance. He folded his arms, annoyed by the throbbing wound. "_How_ are we going to defeat this unknown villain if... if we can't even manage to rely on our allies? I ask you..." He fell silent, putting a finger to his chin as he became lost in a trace of thought.

"Hang on now, Sawyer." Nemo straightened and rapidly got to his feet. "I am just as confident as you are that Mr. Skinner is still with us. However there is no way we can tell the League this without evidence. We must find _proof_ that Skinner is still working for _us_, and that he is indeed working his mischief behind Gray's back. **OMG. **Will you join me, Agent Sawyer, in returning to Gray's stronghold and snatching that proof?"

Still holding the bandage to his wound, Tom stood up swift and walked to his room. In getting there, he loaded his sweet American weapon and flicked an extra pistol into his belt. Lastly, he attached a large ammo belt to his coat and stereotypically snapped his rifle back menacingly.

"Sir, I doubt you will require that much ammunition." Were Nemo's first words to Tom when they rejoined in the courtyard. The American muttered 'Yeah and how about you?' as he glanced at the massive harpoon gun the Indian held under one arm. The Captain seemed to have gone temporarily deaf to Sawyer's words.

As they headed for the front gates, a familiar voice hinted with a French accent sounded in the wake of them, followed by rushed footsteps. They turned to witness none other than Ferdinand Pierre running agitatedly towards them.

"Wait, you two! It would be jolly _grand_ of you to possibly permit my presence in accompanying you to Mr. Dorian Gray's residence!" When the flushed Frenchman reached them, he was awfully puffed out. He put his hands on his knees and bended forward a bit, valiantly gasping for oxygen. The couple of _extraordinary_ gentleman remained silent, waiting for Ferdinand to catch his breath. When he finally had, he straightened and grinned at his jaded companions. "And maybe-maybe if we make it back in time for breakfast, I'll whip up my best meal: _pancakes!! _Oooh!! Perhaps I could also prepare you all some muffins! How would that be? Sound nifty?"

Tom and the Captain blinked, completely lost in the fantasies of food.

-------------------------------------------------------

"_Yes. Nearly_ there..." Rodney placed the last shred of paper on the corner of the rectangle he had formed out of the other bits. There were many jagged lines cutting through the text of the letter, but it was all perfectly legible. "_YEE!!_" Skinner awkwardly stood up, raised his fists into the air and preformed a victory dance. "_You are surrounded! Uh huh, uh huh, surrounded!_"

A door on the opposite wall slammed open, flooding the room suddenly with light and cold air. Rodney shrieked as the wind lifted the many pieces of thin paper that was his note off the floor and rearranged them around the room.

"_Aaaah!_ _Blast_ it!" The Invisible Man kicked the wall in anger, fell to his knees and folded his arms gruffly.

"Shut up, you. Get up. _Now._" A voice came from the doorway.

"Well, _excuse me_, s-" Skinner immediately went quiet as he perceived the edge of a glowing blue chain hanging out of his addressee's pocket.

"I thought you'd come to your senses." The figure shifted itself towards Rodney. It stood motionlessly in front of him, either waiting for a response, or smirking at the listlessness overcoming his captive's form; the Invisible Man's shoulders were slowly growing relaxed and lopsided. It was as if he were hypnotised . . .

-------------------------------------------------------

"And-and _massive_ piles of syrup on top! How does _that_ sound?" Nemo and Agent Sawyer groaned with hunger and annoyance.

It had been three hours since they departed Headquarters, and _still_ they had not arrived at their destination. The Artist's descriptions of cooking were becoming tedious, and Tom was becoming fairly fed up with them. He was now clutching his pistol, twirling it around one finger and occasionally chucking it into the air, characteristically catching it. Nemo seemed to be holding his hand closer to the enormous trigger of his destructive harpoon launcher.

"You both seem _bored stiff_ by all this.** Hehehe. _Omigah dirty thoughts. ( -Jin)_** Why set out on a quest when you know you won't _enjoy_ it?" The Artist received no reply, except for his companions merely rolling their eyes and looking away. After that, the three men roamed the streets in silence until they reached the evocative mansion of Dorian Gray's.

"You!" The American pointed demandingly at Ferdinand. The Frenchman looked up at his being addressed. "Yes, _you_. You are not to remove yourself from this spot." Sawyer made a slight gesture at their surroundings; the gas lamp above them and the dimly lit pavement under them. "This could get rough, so just in case I think you should stay here."

"Oh." The Artist's features, blank, drew into a smirk. "But I can be of more use than you _think_, Agent Sawyer." He crossed his arms. "Let me come with you. I _beg_ of you." His sneer became more apparent.

"Please, Mister, er, _Pierre_." The Captain spoke nervously. "Trust us; it is for your own benefit. Please, ignore my colleague's discourtesy, and identify with me when I say, you _must_ stay here."

"Fine, fine... But you honestly haven't a clue as to what I am _capable_-"

"Sorry, _Ferdinand_, but my companion and I have to break into Dorian's house. Excuse us." Sawyer grabbed Nemo's sleeve and steered him across the street to Gray's oversize front doors.

"That was _very_-"

"Rude, I know. But the man is treacherous to my eye." The American, his expression full of snarkiness, flipped the face on his gun off 'safety'.

"Really? How so?" Nemo took a tighter hold of his harpoon gun, becoming more alert of their situation.

"Well..." Tom sighed unenthusiastically. He glimpsed at Ferdinand for a moment out the corner of his eye. "Just... Never mind." He forced himself to smile at the Captain, to prevent suspicious looks from following him for the rest of the day.

The couple of suss-looking gentlemen bordered around the mansion and began searching for free ways of entry.

-------------------------------------------------------

"_Heheh. Finally. I was actually becoming thirsty..."_

_A young, ginger-haired man held up the small phial filled with a colourless liquid he had been after for some time. He stared at it for a long while._

_He knew very well that once this swig was taken, its results were irreversible... But his occupation as a professional thief needed that kind of improvement._

"_Well... I guess... I'm ready."_

_He raised the bottle to his mouth. He bit the cork and popped it out. There was a mild whiff of chloroform about this serum..._

_He shrugged and lifted the bottle to his lips. He gulped it down to the last drop._

_For a moment, the naïve man stood motionless and slightly excited, wondering what was to happen next. So far it felt like he had just downed a cup of contaminated water._

_It was like that for thirty seconds._

_The filler seemed to slip out of his hands. His blood canals started swelling. His skin began to feel like it was not even there._

_Nothing could have prepared him for what followed - his skin became alit with fire, and his knees buckled. His nerves jolted and he collapsed densely to the floor, shivering deliriously._

_He gasped as the hurting faded slightly. He was breathing hard. Beads of sweat rolled down his face onto the ground._

_The pain intensified again. He endured cruel aching for the next thirteen hours..._

-------------------------------------------------------

"Do you remember now, Mr. Skinner?"

"No..." The tired and sore Thief moaned, as his weary eyes refocused on reality and the real things of the present. "I don't know... what you're talking about..."

"Well, I'm sure you'll remember once you have relived another few memories."

_... No, he isn't serious... Is he?_

"No..." The Invisible Man reached over to the man in the opposite chair, who seemed to have been spellbinding him for the past few hours, forcing him to revive his worst times of past. "You... You can _kill_ me if you want, but please... _please_ don't show me _that_..."

"What?" The shadow looked at his victim inquisitively for a moment, before a smirk spread crookedly on his face. "Oh, you mean _this_?" His chair rattled as he shifted himself closer to Rodney, raising the gleaming black wristlet closer to his prisoner's face.

Skinner leaned forward slightly, his wrists remaining restrained to the wall. He gazed into the tiny bead, which seemed to glitter the most.

-------------------------------------------------------

"_Lookie there!" A small lad standing at the door squeaked suddenly._

"_Wha' is i', Martin?" Another young boy came running to him, curious as to what his friend was pointing at out on the street._

"_Tha' bloke over there, 'cross the road... He put something in his pocket. Somethin' real shiny."_

"'_Sthat so?" Said another lad, though he was much taller than the others. He approached the two youths at the door. "Hmm..." He squinted at the man they were talking about. "Seems to be another one of them rich folk." The younger boys tilted their heads in confusion. There was a brief pause._

"_You go!" A little girl called down from the loft. She pointed a small finger at a ginger-haired boy sitting in the corner._

"_Bu'..." The boy gulped fretfully. "Bu' I went this morning."_

"_Yeah, bu' you didn't get anything!"_

"_Yeah I did." The nervous youngster reached a hand into his pocket. He carefully pulled out a very delicate minute watch._

"_Ha! Tha's nothing! It's broken!" Everyone in the room snickered._

"_Yeah, bu'... so what? At least I go' it!" He folded his arms grumpily as his friends persisted to mock him._

"_Can' even manage to steal somethin' without breaking it!"_

"_Aw, Rodney. You could 'ave just said so. You can stay-"_

"_What? I could have said what?"_

"_That you're a coward." The young lass grinned. "Duh, Rodney, it's so obvious! You always wimp out on jobs if the person yer pilferin' is 'scary-looking'. How much more of a coward can you get?!" The room rang with soft chuckles._

"_Am no'! Am no'!" The ginger-haired lad stuck out his tongue rebelliously. "I'm no' afraid of anything!" There was even more laughter. "SHUT UP! No! Leave me alone!"_

_An adolescent boy had charged at him and taken him by the collar. The young man ruthlessly whacked him across the face. _

"_Stop it!!!" Rodney moaned dejectedly. "Shut-" _

"_You shut up!" The little girl chuckled._

"_No I won' shut up!"_

"_You little SHIT!"_

"_You can' talk to-"_

"_You just don't GET it, do you?" The teenager shook Rodney roughly. "You think we all wanna steal? Well, guess what, pal? We don't! We either steal or we leave this here place! Now you go steal that there shiny thing Martin talked about or I'll tell Mister to kick you out!"_

"_No, no please-"_

"_I swear I will-"_

"_OK!! Just let go of me!!!" Rodney yelped hysterically. The ruffian threw the poor child to the ground._

"_Let's watch Rodney!" The scruffy girl ran to a dirt-streaked window and peeked out anxiously. "Oooh, hurry! He's leavin'!"_

_So, Rodney, an utterly disheartened and filthy child, bravely got to his feet and walked outside. He tried to stop shivering from anxiety._

"_Please, please let him be gone..." He peered nervously around the corner to see a tall man with his back to him, clothed in a sleek black trench coat and gleaming black boots. This man seemed rich, but Rodney was sure something was distinctly different. He soon found out when the gentleman turned around._

_He let out a stifled gasp. That was no man... That was some sort of monster..._

_He began stepping backwards, slowly shifting to the alley door, when he felt something behind him. He turned to see his bully looking down at him angrily._

"_Well, what are you waiting for? Go ge' it!" He raised his arm and it came around to hit Rodney over the head. He then mumbled something, disgruntled, and closed the door._

"_Stupid..." The ginger-haired one shifted uneasily to the corner again, looking around eagerly for that damned rich man. "Aha!" _

-------------------------------------------------------

"Stop it!" Skinner blinked and attempted to snatch the chain hanging in front of him. His wrist burned; he had forgotten the cuffs locking his wrists to the wall behind.

"You don't seem to be enjoying the show, Mr. Skinner." Thrax whispered, his tone hinted with amusement. "Perhaps, something else...?"

"You couldn't... You _wouldn't_-"

"Oh, I _would_, Mr. Skinner." The villain sat in his usual chair again and raised the chain to Rodney's eyes. "I _would_."

-------------------------------------------------------

_A ruffled little boy zigzagged in and out of the many alleyways of London, attempting to lose his anonymous predator._

_He skidded and tripped when a shadow glided rapidly above him and made the attempt of grabbing him._

_Rodney gasped and stood up awkwardly. He pelted towards the nearest dumpster to hide behind._

_Too late. A pair of hands gripped strongly around his shoulders and he found himself being lifted off the ground._

"_HELP! HELP!" He screamed as loud as he could. As he was flown higher, he became aware of a bizarre feeling; the startling sense that he was going to perish in a few moments._

"_Please... Please don't kill me! I'm sorry! You can have it back! Please just LET ME GO!" Quickly realizing he had said the wrong thing, he continued to yell at his predator. "NO! I DIDN'T MEAN THAT!!"_

_He heard a mere snicker from above him, before the tension of two hands on his shoulders relaxed abruptly._

"_AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!" He was falling, plummeting to his doom. Oh God, he thought, I'll never steal again! I'm sorry! He shut his eyes firmly, bracing himself for the deep impact the cold cement would make on him._

_His stomach dipped as a tight grip appeared on his arms again. He heeded the violent swishing of a coat above him._

_He was being lifted high above the ground again. "I'm sorry!" He cried. "Here! Take it!" He nodded down to his pocket, hoping the stranger would just take what was his and go._

"_You don't realise who I am, do you, kid?" A cool, calm and collected voice came from above._

"_Er... No I don't, but whoever you are, please put me down!"_

_He remained hanging motionless, arms pinned, wrapped in the stranger's arm for a few seconds; before he realised he was being lowered to the ground once more._

_He was released about a metre off the concrete. He collapsed hazily._

_Before diminishing unconscious from shock, however, the young ginger-haired lad flinched as a cold hand gripped around his neck and hauled him to his feet._

"_Oh my God..." He was slammed harshly into a moist brick wall behind him. His head banged back and the hold on his neck tightened. "Uh... Plea'... Take it..." Little Rodney reached a hand into his anorak and withdrew it, now holding the stolen item._

_He heard a soft laugh in front of him. "Open your eyes, boy."_

"_Wha'?" Rodney peeped at a gleaming claw placed horizontally below his chin._

"_Do you know what I am going to do now, kid?"_

_The boy allowed the man to answer his own question. After all, the novice thief had no energy left in him to even speak._

"_I am going to hurt you." Rodney felt the warmth of the burning claw vanish from his neck. His breath caught as he suffered a sudden searing pain in his lower abdomen. He struggled hopelessly against his assailant's grasp, his eyes beginning to water. _

_The choking clasp freed unexpectedly from Rodney's neck, and he gave a yell of surprise._

"_Boy, listen to me!!" The infantile thief felt an arm support him around the waist. "You have to run!! Run as fast as you can!!!" _

_He opened his eyes to see an untidy man kneeling facing him who seemed in his mid-thirties; his guardian._

"_Dad?" He squeaked hopefully._

"_I have told you many a time not to call me that. I'm not your father." The gentleman shook his head. "Nevermind that, boy. You have to get out of here! That man is out of his mind! He'll kill you if you don't-" He abruptly leaned forward, his jade eyes widening. He trembled, his mouth opening slightly and clutched the child's shoulders._

"_Dad? What? What's- AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" Rodney scrambled away in fright, having just witnessed a blood-drenched claw rip through his guardian's gut._

"_NO!! I stole it!!! I have it!! It's ME you want!!!" Rodney's profound dark blue eyes started watering feverishly. His guardian began to scream and flail convulsively. _

"_Have mercy!! He has nothing to do with this!!!" The innocent ginger-haired boy fell to his knees, large tears beginning to streak his face. "NO!!! Leave him alone!! I stole it!!! I stole it!!!!" He sobbed frantically, numerous glistening tears descending to the ground. _

"_The boy didn't take it!!! I did!!" Rodney's guardian cried desperately. His knees buckled and he fell on his front. The sound of rigorous crackling reached young Master Skinner's ears._

_He continued to cry feebly. The glossy black chain he had stolen clinked as it was chucked with haste to the ground. With that, the juvenile one retreated..._

-------------------------------------------------------

"YOU _BASTARD_!!!" The Invisible Man heaved his arms forward, his wrists remaining in their restraints.

Thrax was sneering. "That's _just_ what I was waiting to hear." He stood up summarily, turned on his heels and departed, slamming the metallic door after him.

"Oh... God..." Skinner closed his eyes. "That _bastard. _I'll show _him_..." He stopped quivering with anger and looked around. He shook his head, knowing it was hopeless to threaten the cold air. Sighing, he leaned against the stone wall behind him. "Shit. No one's out _lookin'_ for me... No one gives a _damn_ about me..." He kicked the wooden chair standing in front of him. It fell backwards with a loud bang, which reverberated, noisily on the prison walls. "_Why_ did I fight with Dorian? What was it about? Because he tried to kiss me! _Ha_! I've experienced worse, that's for sure." He rested his chin on his chest. "What a stupid thing to quarrel about. OK. So the guy likes me. So what? I'll just... Tell him I'm not interested. Yeah! That'll get 'im away from me..." He stayed silent for a moment, before tutting with irritancy. "Oh for God's sake, what's the point? At this rate, I won't even _see_ him again. _No one_ even knows I'm _gone_." He struggled furiously to get out of his restraints, though with no success. "And who in God's name is 'Invisible Man the First'? Another bloke attempting to hit on me, perhaps? I pray not." He raised his head quizzically, as if something had just occurred to him. "And why the _hell_ am I talking to myself?"

**The inner confines of Mister Dorian Gray's manor... that sounded pretty snazzy! Ehem! Anyway...**

Dorian stood silently, facing the window to view the countless dull streets of London. Fondling absent-mindedly with his stick **(:P) _Mm. Hot._**,he considered the whereabouts of dear Mr. Skinner. He smirked and leaned forward for a better look at the town.

_I warned him..._

Sighing, Gray shifted his weight off the cane and paced the room in thought. It was only after a few moments that he noticed something; the window was unfastened.

"What?" He had definitely not opened that window; after all, it had begun to rain a few minutes ago. "But-"

Before he could prepare himself, he heard the cock of hammer. He turned swiftly to see the American Agent Tom Sawyer pointing a modified rifle at him.

"Tsk, tsk." Dorian shook his head, scrupulously amused by Sawyer's utter idiocy.

"This may not kill you, Mr. Gray," The Immortal jumped and spun around to see Captain Nemo standing about a metre away, making a gesture to a large harpoon gun in his arms, "But I know it will hurt having your innards ripped in two."

Dorian stood motionlessly in astonishment and sheer disbelief that these two dim-wits had broken into his mansion. "I, uh..."

"OK, Dorian. To be honest, we haven't come here for you. We're just here to see Skinner." Tom lowered his rifle as he became aware of Gray's willing cooperation.

The Immortal chuckled darkly. "_Skinner_? You mean Skinner is _missing_?" The two League members stayed silent in reply. "Oh, this is _marvellous_. Please, if you find dear Mr. Skinner, tell him he was thoroughly warned."

"You think this is a _joke_, Mr. Gray?" Nemo raised his weapon firmly.

"You tell us where Skinner is," Sawyer lifted his rifle again, "Or it's '_bang_'."

"You think I'm _joking_?" Dorian offhandedly leaned on his cane another time. "Well, it seems your whole plan has _backfired_. The League has been making efforts to ultimately destroy me, but what's this? Our dear Invisible Man is nowhere to be _seen_." He stopped in sentence and burst out laughing. "Haha! Funny!" Tom and Nemo each cocked a brow. "So, now the League must join forces with _the Immortal_, whom they have been attempting to _murder_ for the past week."

"Look, Gray, we don't want your help any more than you want ours."

"_Your_ help? I don't need _your_ help for anything!"

"You want to find Skinner too." A new voice came from the doors of the library. The three extraordinary gentlemen turned quickly to see Ferdinand Pierre standing triumphantly in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?!" Sawyer blurted out.

"I ask to be considered as, from now on, part of this mission." The Artist, out of habit, began to fidget with the side of his moustache.

"_What mission_?!" The Immortal was in a state of total perplexity and rage.

"Relocating Rodney Skinner; that invisible pickpocket."


	13. INTERMISSION

**INTERMISSION Thingie-ma-jig (by **Jin Satoshi **that loveable cow)**

Muhaha. I get to keep you all in suspense. See, Rei's last chapter gave me the biggest writer's block of them all. So, instead of hurting my head too much dwelling on what the Artist, Tom, Nemo and Dorian can do, I decided to make you all wait.

Welcome to the INTERMISSION- Uhm. Okay. I changed my mind. It's not really gonna be an INTERMISSION. It's just a … songfic inside a fanfic, sort of.

Awh, heck. You'll see.

**WARNING:** Sappiness awaits!

By Myself Lyrics © Roch Voisine

_**I didn't want to have to make you cry**_

I didn't want to say good-bye **Couldn't bear to face the truth**

_**I was me and you were you**_

The soft flicker of firelight was all that illuminated the dim library, it's occupants separated into two groups. Three stood by the large doors that lead towards other rooms, whilst the other, in his pin-stripe suit and ruffles, stood by the fireplace, staring silently into it. Behind him, Dorian could hear young Tom Sawyer, Captain Nemo, and that completely abhorrent Ferdinand Pierre. Oh, how he loathed all three of them. But there they were, trying to work out where on earth their Rodney Skinner could be.

The name sent a pang through Dorian's long-dead heart.

"Listen, Mister… Ferdinand." Tom had his hands on the Frenchman's shoulders, shaking him a little. Ferdinand was smiling stupidly. "You're… an _ex-villain. _Who… decided to become _good, _and join _us._" He took a deep breath. "Now, Ferdinand… what… what on _earth _do you think you could bring to the League?" Tom waited for a few moments, Ferdinand not replying but still smiling. "Exactly. Ferdinand Pierre, you are an ex-villain because you don't. Have. _Anything. _Special about you."

The smile slowly faded on Ferdinand's face, replaced but a stumped stare. He slowly frowned, however, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Mister Sawyer, I'm afraid you don't know me well enough. And anyway, I don't have to be apart of your League. I can easily be a freelance hero, who happens to also be looking for Skinner."

Tom let out a loud sigh and threw his hands into the air, eyes rolling. Nemo remained enigmatic, breaking into the conversation before Tom had a chance to shoot the Artist.

"Does anybody know where he could have gotten to?"

All three slowly looked towards Dorian.

Dorian remained motionless, his fingers clasped about the top of his staff, steel blue optics somewhat dead to the world.

"Poor boy." Ferdinand whispered to the other two. "It's always depressing to lose the one you love."

Tom arched a brow, looking towards Ferdinand as if he was a fungus on the bottom of his foot. Nemo simply smiled.

_**I didn't want to have to let you down**_

_**I didn't want to hang around**_

_**Pretend that we would make it through**_

**Cause you lost me and I lost you**

When Dorian had first met Rodney, the thief was raiding his library. He had stolen a few valuable things, including a very expensive Karma Sutra book. Dorian had only just returned from his … 'escapade', and, well, was feeling rather lonely. Why he had decided to pick on Skinner, he didn't know. Maybe it was because of the loss of M. Dorian had thought that M loved him. If he did, then why did he leave?

That's what Mina and Dracula did.

That's what Henry did.

That's what Basil did.

That's what… Skinner did.

_Why do they all leave me? _ _Am I that horrible? Am I hated that… much?_ Dorian had never wanted to lose Skinner the way he did. He hadn't even planned to kiss him. He hadn't planned for anything, really. He'd started to, but then… Skinner had always, _always _gotten in the way somehow.

Why did he feel that way? God damnit.

_**I'm by myself**_

_**My heart is shaking**_

_**Was I mistaken?**_

There, in the fog and the rain, Dorian had felt Skinner so close. He almost laughed when the other man caught a feel.

That was all in the past now.

He didn't want to go after Skinner. Skinner had left _him _in the first place.

_**I didn't want to have to start**_

_**And then I didn't want to face the end**_

_**I didn't want to hold the pain**_

_**I can't afford to feel again**_

"Get out." The snarl dripped from his lips so easily, the beautiful young immortal slowly looking over his shoulder towards the three, who now stared back, dumbfounded.

"But… you…" Ferdinand started.

"Listen here, Gray- It's your fault Skinner's gone, so you're gonna help us find him. Or, like I said before, you'll get a harpoon through your gut." Tom roared.

Dorian spun so sharply he almost knocked over a chair. Lifting his caned sword in the air, his eyes glaring darkly and… somewhat glazed over.

"Then shoot me!" He slowly opened his arms out wide, invitingly.

Nemo, Tom and Ferdinand froze. Sawyer hadn't expected Dorian to do this.

Slowly the immortal smirked.

"Cowards."

But this is where I'm in my life 

_**And I know somehow I'll get by**_

_**I didn't want to feel the cold**_

_**But babe I have to let you go**_

Insanity. Pure. Dark. Insanity.

That's all Dorian saw.

He didn't need Skinner.

He didn't need Mina.

Not M, not Basil, not Henry…

He didn't… need…

Skinner.

God.

Skinner.

That was when Tom first saw a hint of emotion in the Immortal's smirking features. For a fleeting second, Dorian let down his guard. Hurt, anguish, and worry, all flooded to the surface so briefly it needed Tom's sharp sight to see it.

He thought he would be repulsed at the thought of loving another man. He thought he would be repulsed that _Dorian _would love another man. But he wasn't.

"Gray…" Slowly he whispered, taking a step forward. Dorian's eyes narrowed sharply again, and he took a defensive step back.

"Gray. We wont force you." Nemo finally spoke up; his husky, wise voice breaking the tense atmosphere, more than Tom's whisper would ever have.

"But please, you're the only one with the contacts and the knowledge to save him. Wherever he is." Ferdinand finished.

_**I'm by myself**_

My heart is breaking Was I mistaken? 

It didn't take much else to persuade the immortal.

They left him to his own devices for a long while, and soon he reappeared, dressed to 'impress' as it were.

Dorian's silver orbs scanned Ferdinand, then Tom, then Nemo. He pinched his lips together, and nodded curtly. His hair, now, was tied back with a thin strip of leather, locks of dark tresses slipping from the binding to frame his immortal features. Ferdi grinned.

Dressed to impress, indeed.

Beside myself 

_**Our love is fading**_

_**And I'm slowly breaking away**_

_**I didn't wanna have to make you cry**_

Tear. Everyone cry. Damnit, now!

Awh. See, Dorian DOES have feelings.

Or… maybe 'cause Skinner's just so irresistible.

Well, stay tuned. The next instalment will be coming right…

Right…

Right…

NOW.


	14. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve (by Reeeei Nokato! Viva la revolucion! ... oO)**

Rodney Skinner, the tired-eyed invisible rogue, folded his arms after awakening uneasily from his night-time slumber. It seemed his team-mates had failed to rescue him during the night.

A chill from a wisp of cold air in the room made the Thief shiver furiously. He recognised Thrax was approaching, for the villain's footsteps sounded from the corridor outside of the prison. The reverberations quickly grew louder and soon enough, the darkened figure of the nemesis stood against the minimal light spilling through the doorway.

The willowy shadow that was Thrax calmly picked up the chair which Rodney had kicked over in anger the night before. The evocative criminal seated himself, pulling his chair closer to his captive.

The two sat in silence for at least ten minutes. Skinner, eventually becoming bored with the dullness in the dungeon, shut his eyes and accidentally slipped into a power-nap.

The predator, who noticed this, shifted his chair slightly to awaken his prisoner. Rodney awoke loudly with a snort.

"Huh, what?" He gazed at the shadow sitting before him. Another moment passed in hush. "...So-"

"I see you slept in discomfort, Mr. Skinner."

The Thief blinked. "Uhm… well-"

"I'm surprised you actually slept through the ruckus that occurred in the small hours of-"

"Ruckus? I didn't hear anything… What-"

"Your so-called _League_ arrived, apparently on a rescue mission; however they were easily shooed away before they reached you…" A smirk came about Thrax's expression.

"Shooed away? May I ask that you be… a _tad_ more specific?" Rodney was slowly becoming more nervous and aware of the danger he was in.

The villain gave one of his creepy oblique smiles. "The Frenchman is now a prisoner of mine. I shooed them away by mere threats and bluff."

"…Threats?"

"I stated that if they were not to leave, the Frenchman would be eradicated by nine this evening." Thrax sneered. "You should have _seen_ the looks on their faces." He laughed softly. "Pathetic."

"Oi, now! You can insult _me_ all you want, but there's no reason to bring them into this! You imprisoned me here because you wanted to kill me, right?"

"Oh, it isn't as simple as _that_, Mr. Skinner." The adversary uncurled a radiant claw from his palm. The Thief gulped quietly. "I'm trying to rid of the others who possess abnormal powers… For they, I fear, have the chance of destroying me."

Rodney opened his eyes abruptly. "Destroying you? You mean… Someone like me could _destroy_ you?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Skinner; that is, anyone whom I possess a memory of, concealed in this bracelet." Thrax rolled up his sleeve to reveal a black wristlet, several blue beads gleaming within it. "The bracelet is weak to them alone-"

"You realise that you're disclosing facts which I can use to plan your downfall?"

"Yes I do, Mr. Skinner. But… you see, there isn't too much time for that, since you don't have all that much time to live. A certain procedure is what I'm following; collect memories, kill those who own them. I have disposed of most owners; all except _you_… and that blasted Frenchman."

"So _that's_ why you're keeping me here?" The Invisible Man chuckled. "Why not kill me now?"

It seemed Skinner's growing ease was infuriating the other. "I wish I could, but that is not my full plan." He leered at his prisoner, whose perky smile was, at that instant, quickly fading. "Every moment that passes, a memory is created… more moments means more memories, and more memories means more _energy,_ and more energy means…" Thrax stopped pacing and turned slowly about to meet the horrified features of his captive. A wicked smile extended crookedly on the criminal's lips. He took a presumptuous step forward and kneeled so his face was straight before his prisoner's. "You're in for a rough time, Mr. Skinner." **(Geeez, that is so gross... I apologise if you didn't consider it dirty at all. ) **

**Meanwhile, outside the League's Headquarters…**

"Remain calm, Mr. Gray." Nemo spoke in a harsh voice. "I'm sure the others will accept you."

"If they don't, I'll handle them." A strong American-accented voice sounded at Dorian's other side.

"I _refuse_ to admit your help!" The Immortal stopped quite suddenly, a tantrum finally coming on after the early morning's events.

The three extraordinary gentlemen stood silently in the dew-drenched morning grass. Gray found himself rubbing his eyes, attempting to hide his expression.

"You two just don't _understand_! It was _I_ who selfishly dismissed Skinner off into the streets alone in the late hours. I _knew_ he would turn up missing, for both his colleagues _and_ I abandoned his friendship!"

"Well, doesn't that make _us_ responsible as well as you?" Agent Sawyer muttered. "I mean, if we hadn't turned our backs on him, he would have come back here after he left your mansion. It isn't entirely _your_ fault."

Nemo nodded at this. "Yes, yes. Agent Sawyer is correct in that-"

Dorian suddenly hissed, so as to shush the Captain. The three gentlemen continued onwards until they reached the Meeting Quarter.

The Immortal seemed to have lost most colours in his cheeks. He seated himself in a chair at one end of the table, and then buried his face in his hands.

**Back at Thrax's Lair...**

The Invisible Man collapsed, his cheek meeting the cold brick floor.

"Stop it! Let me go!" He cried as the villain approached to issue him yet another dose of pain. "Leave me a-" He stopped in mid-sentence as Thrax halted next to him, his claw coming downwards, ever so closer to the Thief's face.

As Skinner clenched his teeth, bracing himself for another nasty searing pain, a clatter arose in the passage outside. He breathed a sigh of relief as his captor gave a groan of impatience and the vile claw escaped his vision.

The enemy banged the door open. "What's going-!" There was a small silence, and then a loud roar of frustration. Rodney was not sure whether it had been Thrax, but whoever it was sounded utterly infuriated.

A loud clang and the sound of a body hitting the ground followed. The Invisible Man moved himself around in his restraints so he could perceive what the noise was all about.

With a small laugh of glee, Rodney sat up to face a recognizable shadow standing triumphantly in the doorway; it was none other than Ferdinand Pierre.

**Back at the League's HQ...**

Dorian held his head in his hands, his cheeks brightening from the extreme warmth in the Meeting Quarter.

It hadn't taken long for anyone to realise the Immortal's presence; Mina had arrived to momentarily enjoy a cup of tea by the fire, when she had noticed the sight of Gray and called for immediate assistance.

It also hadn't taken excessive time for Nemo and Tom to come to Dorian's aid. They explained their situation, and of their missing Invisible Man.

"But... where _is_ he then?" The vampire said blankly to the Immortal sitting submissively in a cosy armchair. His response was a mere, thoughtless shrug.

"In which direction did he flee?" Jekyll spoke up. Again, the same useless motion.

"There's no point in questioning him." The Captain muttered, loud enough for the others to hear. "His thoughts are severely crowded in other matters. Even if he had information, his position in this problem would alter it."

"What are you talking about?" Dorian snapped suddenly, obviously in need of a good night's rest. "Look, if I knew where Skinner was I would have..." The Immortal suddenly levelled, a look of horrid realisation sweeping his face.

"What?" Mina murmured, timidly approaching her ex-lover.

"_El Muerte Rojo._" Dorian said. This earned him numerous questionable glances.

"Excuse me?" Harker was unsure whether she had just been insulted or what not.

"_El Muerte Rojo!_" The Immortal smacked a hand to his forehand. "Of _course_! How could I have been so _dense_?!" He hurriedly got to his feet.

"What is this? What are you saying?!" The young American asked eagerly.

"Ferdinand Pierre _let_ himself be captured! He knew where Skinner was all along!" He brushed his clothes of excess ash floated on to him from the fireplace. "He mentioned this morning on our search that we go to his former lair. I remember we were exceptionally suspicious of his plans; we seriously considered that Ferdinand was attempting to lure us into some sort of trap." He hit his fist into his other palm. "But that wasn't it at all! I've just pieced it together now; Pierre was somehow in on Thrax's business-"

"Thrax?" Quack interrupted. "Who in God's name is _Thrax_?"

Dorian paid no heed whatsoever to the Doctor, but continued his discussion with his ex-colleagues. "To us, Thrax hasn't the slightest strategic plan. But, indeed, he is somehow linked in Ferdinand's affairs of villainy. Pierre has known of this, but..." The Immortal rubbed his chin. "Where was _his_ part in the whole thing? But, wait! Maybe..." Gray clapped his hands together excitedly. "That's it! That's why Ferdinand set up his attention-seeking lair in the first place! That's why he captured me! Finally, it all makes sense!"

"What does?!" Mina growled angrily, frustrated by her lack of briefing.

Dorian puffed out his chest; he had at long last worked it all out. "Ferdinand Pierre is no villain! He is a spy; a detective, secretly tracking down one of Europe's biggest criminals!"

**Wow, what a twist that was! D Anyway, back to Skinner and Ferdi...**

"Who'd have thunk it?" Skinner chuckled as the Artist's knife effortlessly slit through the tight rope confining his wrists.

"Didn't think I'd come to rescue _you_ of all people, did you, Mr. Skinner?" The Frenchman was gleaming with immense pride at his success.

"And for some bloody reason, you yearned to be a villain." The Thief grinned.

The Artist seemed awkward for a few seconds. "Uh, there's something I have urgent need to tell you." He rubbed his hands together anxiously.

"Oh? And what may that be?" Rodney at last got to his feet. He recoiled when he straightened his arm; from all of the pain and stress Thrax had caused him, the Invisible Man had completely forgotten the fact that his arm was fractured.

"I'm n-not a villain. I'm an ex-agent of London's secret services." He ignored the other's sudden change in expression. "_El Muerte Rojo_, also known as _Thrax_, is one of the most wanted criminals of this time. He has murdered several people, most of them mere innocents that crossed his path." Pierre sighed. "I was never working against you or your team of _extraordinary gentleman_. I simply assumed that if you became aware of Thrax's existence and discovered what a horrid reputation he had that perhaps you would be willing to help me and my cause-" The man in front of him raised a hand to stop any more words travelling to him.

"You said you were an _ex-agent_; doesn't that mean… you're no longer one of London's spies?"

"Oh yes, that." Ferdinand waved a hand. "I was forced to resign. I have been after Thrax for years, which is why I found myself with no time to concentrate on the cases appointed to me. They felt no reason for me to leave but…" The Frenchman shook his head, smiling. "I realised after a fair time that I would never catch Thrax with my extra duties weighing me down. I think it was for the best. Uh… do you need a hand?" He asked the Thief unexpectedly, noticing the other seemed to be cradling his arm.

"No. No, I'm fine, really." Rodney brushed Ferdinand's offer away.

The Artist shrugged. "Oookay, have it your way then."

Skinner and his rescuer turned on their heels to exit through the door they had previously entered through. But just as they began to recognise feelings of hope and relief, they stopped dead in their tracks.

There stood their predator, leaning comfortably on one side of the door frame; once knocked out, _El Muerte Rojo_ was presently wide awake, a smirk upon his face, his figure totally thwarting their way out.

"Hello, ladies."

**Dorian and the Crew…**

"Alright, so let me get this straight." Said Dorian running his fingers through his hair nervously. "We surround his lair, and then we wait for a whistle from Sawyer before we mindlessly barge in, guns ablaze." The Immortal chuckled, smoothing his locks down. "Preposterous. It will never work."

"I'd like to see _you_ come up with something!" Mina snarled at her ex-lover, her vampiric fangs bearing slightly.

"Look, at this rate we won't get there in time to save Skinner." Tom interrupted, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Or Ferdinand…" Jekyll added blandly.

"I highly doubt that any of you will escape with your lives, let alone Skinner, if you go along with your ridiculous plan-"

"What do you suggest then, Mr. Gray?" Nemo spoke from within the darker portion of the room.

Dorian laughed quietly, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, I have my _own_ plans, Captain. You members of the _League_ can go ahead and do as you please. Remember this, though…" His tone became strict and quite threatening. "Don't waste time in trying to defeat the enemy for he _is_ unbeatable. It would be foolish to linger longer than needed be."

"And what will we do when the murderer comes by our headquarters asking for his prisoners' return?" The vampire growled.

"Well… I suppose you'll have to work _that_ out for yourselves."

At these words, Harker leapt into the air with fury. She pushed Dorian to the ground with immaculate force. She swooped down and wrenched the Immortal's head to one side, vampiric fangs fully bared, exposing one side of his neck.

Gray listened as the sounds of swords, knives and guns were drawn from their scabbards and a rush of footsteps thundered the floor.

The vampire opened her mouth and was about to sink her teeth into her ex-lover to leech the first of his blood, when he gave a small grunt of amusement.

Mina gave a jerk of hesitation and reluctantly pulled herself and her vicious fangs away. She glared at the Immortal, her expression that of one who is amazingly peeved.

"What is so _funny_?!!" She yelled, losing her temper. As usual, Quack intervened.

"Come, m' lady. Let us go outside for some air, shall we?"

Afterwards, when the Doctor had steered Harker out of sight, the League's Meeting Quarter was hushed.

The man garbed in grey lay motionless on the carpet, stubbornly refusing to get up. The rug beneath was warm and rather comfy… for a rug, that is.

"Are you going to lie there until dawn, Gray?" An American-accented voice sounded. Dorian gave a slight gesture that resembled a nod. "Okay then. I'll just turn the lights out, shall I?"

He waited until Sawyer had extinguished every candle and departed the darkened room before he sat up.

Gray smiled pensively as he glanced idly at a chair, which had not been tucked in beneath the table by one of the extraordinary gentlemen.

_Skinner... I'm coming._


End file.
